Murder My Heart
by Tituba3
Summary: When Detective Rukia Kuchiki finds her brothers body in the slums she vows to find his killer, but when the murders continue she is forced to work with a Detective who can push all of her buttons. Will they find the killer or end up killing one other? IR
1. Prologue: The First Murder

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: I hope everyone likes this story—Its the first crime/Bleach fic I've written! Please don't forget to review. Also, it's the first time I've placed a story of I've heard the term 'Lieutenant' shortened to Lou so that's what that means, if anyone knows the correct abbreviation please tell me.)**

**Murder My Heart**

**Prologue**

Detective Rukia Kuchiki placed her hand on the gear shift of her sleek black car and pushed it into park. She allowed her hand to rest on the hard plastic object for only a moment longer before removing it and placing it on the steering wheel. Her steely eyes stared at the undulating wipers as they beat back and forth, dispelling the water that was pounding down on the windshield of her car. Her fingers tightened on the leather coated wheel as she tried to get them to stop shaking. She stared menacingly at the non-responsive digits and wiggled them furiously so they started shaking out of pain and not out of nervous fear.

Turning her immobile neck towards the window, Rukia tried to see the streets outside her steaming windows. It was dark—only about two in the morning actually—and the streets were covering in a tsunami-like downpour. She could just imagine the filthy streets running with rivers of trash and, in tonight's case, blood. She blinked her bloodshot eyes and pictured scraggly rats and damp cats as they roamed the cracked cement sidewalks and scavenging inside of wayward dumpsters as they tried to avoid the rain.

She swallowed thickly and placed a hand on her chest. This was just going to be a routine stop. Nothing was wrong with this. She just needed to get in, ID the headless corpse of her murdered brother, and leave. She wasn't supposed to get involved. She had strict orders to leave this to the three one. Leave it to the 31st Precinct… don't get involved.

"Bullshit." Rukia snarled as she turned off the ignition and placed her hand on the door handle. It took one more deep breath before she was able to move again, but she was ready now. Rukia flung open the door and placed her legs on the solid earth beneath her shoes. The moment she stood she was blasted by a freezing gust of wind. She shivered violently, a combination of death, rain, and the realization that it was indeed the first of February. The heavy droplets of icy rain fell onto her head and instantly soaked every one of her inky black locks. She quickly tucked her unruly hair behind her ears and scowled as the one piece that limped between her eyes became plastered to her nose.

Blinking water out of her eyes and wondering how long it would take for it to solidify into ice, Detective Kuchiki staggered forward and found with certainty that yes, her legs did indeed feel like gelatin. She headed towards the flashing blue, red, and white lights near the end of the street. As she neared the yellow tape she numbly realized that she needed to fish her badge out of her pocket. Grumbling at the damn pocket of her trench coat—which was about as warm as a wet blanket—she cursed some more and finally dug it out.

The street cop near the front of the crime scene moved to stop her rather direct path but she flashed him her ID and barked, "Detective Rukia Kuchiki, from the two eight. Let me through." She didn't say please and didn't even bother to swerve around him as she pummeled underneath the crime scene tape and continued.

She took a quick glance around and immediately knew that there should have been more people.

Her brother deserved better than this.

She could feel herself choking slightly as she continued. Oh God, there was the white sheet. Rukia could feel the bile rising in her throat as she noticed a pale hand—slightly smeared with blood—peeking from underneath the rain soaked sheet. That sheet was already plastered to his body, outlining each crease and crinkle in the expensive Italian suit he always wore. Rukia placed a hand over her mouth and blinked away the hot, burning sensation in her eyes.

"Oh God." She muttered as she took a few more tentative steps forward. Someone was looking over his body, raising the sheet to check the stabbing marks on his chest and the slash mark across his throat.

Rukia wondered when she was going to vomit.

She recognized the man who was examining her brother's dead body. His name was Hanataro Yamada, he was a nervous looking man with drooping eyes and coal black hair that fell into his face and covered most of his nervous grimace. He had his hood pulled over his head so as not to get wet and was poking at Byakuya's body with a pencil. Rukia instantly wanted to kill him.

Instead she charged over to his crouched form and grasped the neck of his jacket. He gave a startled yelp as she tugged his face to his. His eyes filled with fear and hers became alive with rage as she stared him down, he whimpered and she snarled, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

He winched at her as if he was afraid she would rip his nose off with her teeth, "I'm e-examining the body, w-who are y-you?"

"I'm his sister," she growled hotly, "And if you don't mind, I'd like you to stop prodding my brother's corpse with a pencil."

"I-It's a pen." He squeaked before raising his hand to his eyes and shielding, his voice was almost lost to the rain.

"I don't care!" She roared as she released his collar and threw him to the ground—away from her brother.

No one around them even heard the argument, the rain was coming down harder than ever and almost everything was lost in the thrashing sound of the downpour. Rukia was left unperturbed as people bustled around the crime scene—attempting to find any shreds of evidence that weren't already whisked away by the rain. In the liquid pounding occurring all around Rukia found herself alone with the corpse of her brother.

Before she knew what was happening her knees had given way and her fists were clenching the soaked sheet. Everything she had ever learned in the police academy was screaming at her not to touch his body or disturb any of the evidence that might be useful in finding his killer, but… she didn't care. Her hands were swathed in the blood soaked cloth that covered his body. She knew that he hadn't been here long, maybe a couple of hours; his body was still fresh and even bleeding slightly. Her hands pressed against his chest—it was stiff now, having freshly gone into rigor. She could feel the muscles that were once so hard rest against his bones, limp with stillness. She felt a shudder run through her body as her hands became tainted with the red stickiness of his blood. The blood that had once been pumping through his active and alive veins. Rukia took in a shuddering gasp and slowly removed her hands from his body. She had to distance herself; she had to preserve some semblance of his dignity. He wouldn't want her sobbing over his prostrate body.

Even if his body had been stabbed seventeen times and nearly decapitated.

"Hey!"

Rukia raised her heavy head, already sopping with water and perhaps a couple of tears, and blinked at the young man coming towards her. He was wearing a policeman's jacket and had a detective's badge clipped to a small chain around his front. Rukia glared at him softly but allowed him to come closer. She told herself she didn't look weird. She was just kneeling beside the body of her dead brother, but he didn't know that, hell, she could even pass for that spineless medical examiner.

"What are you doing with the body?" He cried over the roar of the rain. His figure was distorted in the heavy precipitation but Rukia could tell that he was tall, lightly built, and strong. She could also tell that he was angry. Very angry apparently, well, if the sight of his furrowed brow and furious glare was any indication.

"Examining it," she answered defiantly, even though her voice was shaking slightly. Rukia swallowed and took a deep breath, after a moment she transformed her voice into the iron clad powerhouse she used in the interrogation room. She had used this voice hundreds of times in order to get suspects to confess. She saw the man coming closer and she braced her hands on the wet asphalt beneath her, her plan was to rise and meet him head on, but it didn't seem like her legs wanted to work anymore. So instead of fighting it she simply sat on the wet ground, the dirty rain soaking her jeans and sticking through to her skin.

He approached and glared furiously from her to her dead brother. "Where's Hanataro? And why are you disturbing the body?" He demanded as he motioned to her.

Rukia sat on the ground and didn't move as she glared at him with steely eyes. "Hanataro is over in that corner weeping like a frightened child," she ground out. As she said the words she could feel something like strength returning to her legs. With difficulty, she pressed her hands onto the jagged ground and pushed herself up. Her soaked jeans weighted her body heavily and she had to keep one of her thumbs hooked inside the belt loop just to keep them up. Nonetheless she straightened her spine and raised her head to deliver a stare of hostility to the detective before her.

He was taller than she had first thought, definitely taller than her—but that was easy to accomplish since she was probably the shortest person on the entire police force—but he still outranked her by at least a head. He also had fiery orange hair and bright amber eyes, both of which were streaming with rainwater. Rukia also noticed that his face wore a livid frown she surmised could intimidate any of the nastiest perps she had ever known—either that or make someone very angry. Just his glare right now was making her spine tingle and her blood boil.

She finished her appraisal of him and noted with satisfaction that he was also making a scrutiny of her. She wondered if he liked what he saw—but more importantly, she needed to make sure that he feared it.

After a moment of angry silence—which couldn't actually be considered silence due to the harsh rain, shouting officers, and ringing sirens—the detective in front of Rukia crossed his arms and said in a voice barely audible above the deafening shower. "That still doesn't explain why you were disturbing the body."

"Your powers of observation astound me, Detective." Rukia snarled sarcastically.

"Kurosaki," the man said with equal disdain, "Detective Kurosaki, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't." She snapped, she raised her arms and crossed them underneath her small breasts.

"Alright then," Detective Kurosaki growled, "Why were you disturbing the body… Miss…"

Rukia didn't give him her name, instead she fished her badge out of her pocket and flashed the shining emblem in his face and glowered, "Detective, to you as well, and I was disturbing the body because I…" Good God, her throat couldn't be closing up now, "I can identify the b-body."

Detective Kurosaki didn't miss the shudder in her voice, even in the splashing rain and occasional booming thunder. Instead he glanced from her to the body and then back. He couldn't see her eyes in the dark night so he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. Rukia saw the small motion and instantly stared him in the eye—if he wanted to flash that light and see how perturbed she was, well fine. She wouldn't object.

The detective, instead of shining the light in her face, left his spot in front of her and knelt down beside the corpse. He flipped back the soaked sheet and pointed the light directly into Byakuya Kuchiki's face.

Rukia's hand immediately flew to her mouth where she could feel the bile and vomit rising. With the light in his face her brother looked so pale. His hair was drenched and wild and plastered either to his face or the ground beneath his body. His eyes were twin hollow holes of darkness—they were so lifeless and inert. His mouth was open slightly; his lips were chapped and bloodless—even when covered with filthy rainwater. Rukia had the sudden urge to reach forward and close his mouth. She did not want dirty rainwater from the streets of some slum to be flowing into the mouth of her brother. It would go down his esophagus until it was filling his lungs until he couldn't even breathe. It would continue until he was deader than he had ever been before.

Rukia watched in horror as the Detective shined the light on Byakuya's throat. It was at that moment she knew the contents of her stomach would soon make a reappearance. The rain that was supposed to be flowing down his throat and into his motionless lungs was squelching out the open slit in his throat, causing blood and pieces of flesh to flow down the sides of his neck.

The Detective gave him the once over and wrinkled his nose. Rukia saw the gesture and immediately felt her stomach heave. Hurriedly, she turned away and dashed from her brother's dead body. She was underneath the crime scene tape and down another alley before Detective Kurosaki even noticed she was gone. She heard his shout from a distance but couldn't hear anything more as her ears abruptly stopped working and her stomach pushed her meager dinner back up her throat—her working throat that did not possess any slash marks—and out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her vomit hit the soaked ground with a sickening splash.

Gasping, she pressed one hand against the wall of a decrepit building and the other across her stomach. Her body was shuddering now, she felt cold and clammy—and she knew it wasn't just the rain still beating on her drowned body. Deftly she checked her pulse with the tips of her fingers then felt her limbs to make sure they were moving properly. She was okay… she was okay… she was okay….

Her stomach gave another powerful heave but this time there was nothing to push out. She was empty inside. Everything was hollow.

Just like the eyes of her brother.

"Hey you!"

Good God, not that Detective again, hadn't he caused enough pain for one night? Couldn't he see what that corpse was doing to her? Couldn't he—and why for the love of fucking _Christ_ was he holding a gun at her?

Instantly, Rukia's hand reached for her holster but his voice stopped her, "Hold it right there!" He called loudly. Rukia snorted, she could already tell that he liked to watch Westerns. "Take your hand away from the weapon." He ordered and she calmly complied, but instead of holding up her hands she crossed them.

"Show me your badge again, and this time I want ID." He demanded, coming closer to her, his eyebrows forged into the frown of steel. "But reach into your pocket slowly."

Rukia sighed, still trying to shake off the feeling of death. Oddly enough, the gun pointed at her was helping. "If you can see a gun in my holster why would you think I had another one in my pocket?"

"Not the point," he countered immediately. "Do it."

Rukia reached inside of her pocket and found her badge, quickly followed up with her ID. She walked up to him and tossed them at his chest. Deftly he grabbed both and stared at each.

"Detective Rukia Kuchiki, of the two eight." He looked up and gave her a steely glare. "What the hell are you doing in the three one?"

Rukia's eyes narrowed into slits of lethal insidiousness. "I already told you." Her brother's face flashed through her mind again and she felt her stomach muscles clench. "I came to i-identify the body."

"Well," Detective Kurosaki said, "Who the hell is it?"

Rukia blinked at him for a moment before closing her eyes. The only problem with that was that each time she closed her eyes she saw her brother… dead, throat slit, body cut up in angry rage.

She dove to the side of the wall and dry heaved once more, the detective lunged at her initially, but when he saw what she was doing his stance softened slightly and he inched slightly towards her. His frown turned from one of anger to one of wariness. "Detective… Kuchiki?" He asked, as if he was tasting the name on his tongue.

Rukia leaned against the wall and once again looked at her fingers—they were shaking but they weren't blue. Or maybe they were, she couldn't tell, she was too wet and too cold and too horrified. She placed a hand on her forehead and ran her fingers through her sopping hair, plastering it to the back of her head and causing water to stream down her neck.

A few moments later she felt a hand on her shoulder—not rough but not gentle either. "Detective Kuchiki?" His voice was quieter now, he was still shouting over the rain but it was not angry, only… irritated.

Rukia shook her head and swallowed the horrid taste in her mouth. _Just don't blink_, she told herself. _Don't blink and you won't see Byakuya._ She needed to tell him. She needed to tell him that it was her brother.

Detective Kurosaki moved only a bit closer to her, he was now able to talk to her without yelling. "Do you know who it is?"

Rukia nodded. The detective shot her an irritated glance but she didn't care. She was staring at a molded brick wall. She opened her mouth…

"Rukia!"

She snapped her head up and opened her eyes wide. Oh God, what the hell was he doing here? She wasn't even supposed to be here, at this crime scene, in this grubby place, staring at her brother's dead body.

"Rukia!"

A flash of lightning exploded in the dark sky and Rukia saw her partner outlined in the sudden light. His red hair was still amazingly sticking up in the downpour around them. In the darkness his tattoos wrapped like snakes around his face. She saw his leather jacket coming towards them and watched as he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his detective's badge. He showed it to Detective Kurosaki and immediately shoved him out of he way. The detective stumbled into the alley and grunted as the man before him placed both hands on the shoulders of the woman, speaking in earnest whispers.

"The Lou told you not to…" he said harshly before his voice drained into the rain.

"I had to… needed to… didn't believe…."

"Was… dead…?"

Nothing.

The woman hung her head. The man holding with his hands on her shoulders closed his eyes and squeezed lightly. He shook his head and Detective Kurosaki saw him swallow convulsively.

Not one to be ignored, Detective Kurosaki holstered his gun and strode towards the two other detectives. "What the hell is going on?" He had to shout to be heard over the rain.

The man with the red hair raised his tattooed head and frowned over at Detective Kurosaki. He looked from the woman before him and the orange-haired man to his side. Deftly, he pointed at himself and yelled over the noise, "I'm Detective Abarai from the two eight, this is Detective Kuchiki from—"

"From the two eight," he yelled in response, "I know, what the hell are you two doing here? This isn't your turf."

The man's face contorted into a scowl, made even more menacing by his tattoos. "We know." He looked towards the woman and grimaced, "My partner was here to see the body."

"So visit the morgue in the morning!" Detective Kurosaki yelled, tossing her badge and identification back to her. "Besides, we still haven't made a positive ID on the vic." He glared at the female detective. "And if she won't tell me anything you might as well get the hell out of here." He jerked his thumb towards the street and scowled hard at them.

Detective Kuchiki's head snapped up and she stared wide-eyed at Detective Kurosaki. Lightning flashed in the distance and for the first time Detective Kurosaki saw her inky and hurt-filled eyes reflected in the instantaneous light. He was astounded by the expression shown inside those black depths.

"How dare you!" She screamed, her voice rising to alarming heights over the rage of the storm, she rushed towards him and planted her feet not two inches from his body, "He was my _brother_ you jackass! Byakuya Kuchiki! My _brother_! My _brother_ was murdered and you're worried about a turf war?"

She raised her hand and started to swing towards his face, Detective Kurosaki raised his own arm to defend himself from the angered attack.

It never came. Her hand stopped only centimeters from his face, her fingers shaking in rage and pain.

"Rukia," Detective Abarai cried as he rushed to her side, "Don't. You could get in trouble with IAB."

Shivering or shaking—Rukia didn't know which one she was doing. All she knew was that she was colder than she had ever been in her life and it was scaring her. Soon she would be on the road next to her brother—dead, just like him.

She took a step away from Detective Kurosaki and glared at him. "How dare you… you bastard." The burning sensation was back, she could feel it swallowing her eyes and making tears stream down her face. The salty droplets muddled with the rain falling from the sky. She choked and swallowed hard, "I-It was his b-birthday." She blinked and felt the tears begin to burn behind her eyes, but she wouldn't cry or put her face in her hands… never. She wouldn't show that weakness.

She felt a soft hand on her shoulder, with little hesitation she followed her partner's guiding hand as he led her to her car. He muttered something about taking a taxi here and told her that he'd drive her back to her apartment.

As she walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle she looked back over to the Detective she had just met. He was staring at her, following her with eyes she couldn't see—she wasn't even sure she wanted to see.

The last thought she had before getting inside of the car and out of the freezing rain was that the heavens were weeping in abject misery for her dead brother.


	2. Tempers

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Enjoy the new chapter, things will progress slowly until they actually **_**heat up**_** if you catch my drift.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. You are making me feel so welcome to Also, am I supposed to reply to reviews? I'm not really sure. Info would be appreciated. Loves you all!**

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!! Ja ne and enjoy!!!)**

**Chapter 1**

"Damn it!" Cried Detective Kurosaki, he threw a thick folder onto the desk and watched as the papers slid off his desk and scattered across the floor. Angrily, he hoisted out of his chair and practically threw himself at the coffee machine. The precinct took the time to stare at him as he swallowed three consecutive cups of stale coffee. Fighting a slight gag in his throat he shuddered slightly and stormed back to his desk.

File after file sat atop his oak veneer, records of old cases the top detective Byakuya Kuchiki had investigated, solved, and won. Murderers, rapists, serial killers, kidnappers, frauds—he knew how to catch and manhandle any type of low life scum.

He rifled through the gargantuan stack and sighed dejectedly. How in the hell was he suppose to find the son of a bitch who murdered Kuchiki if the man had so many God damn enemies? Grumpily, he returned to his work, a hard frown on his face.

The door to the chief's office opened with a deafening bang; Detective Kurosaki jerked his head in the direction of his bosses heavy footfalls and began to grumble; of all the days to get his ass chewed out why did Kenpachi have to pick today? He didn't need it, not when he had a murdered detective on his hands.

"Kurosaki," the chief barked thunderously, his spiked hair waving dangerously in the air. The detective scowled and let his eyes dart around the room, everyone within earshot paused and looked up, Kurosaki grunted, nosy bastards. The Lou came closer to him and rumbled, "I heard you found Byakuya Kuchiki's body two nights ago."

The detective scowled again, "Yeah, I was on the scene. What about it?" He muttered as he scowled defiantly at his boss. He already knew what this was about.

Kenpachi gritted his teeth, lifted his eye patch from his scarred face, and snarled, "I also heard that you made his sister cry."

Detective Kurosaki raised his hands in an irritated gesture. Normally, the terrifying effect of both of the captain's eyes was alarming, but the Detective had had those eyes on him one too many times to be scared. "Hey, I didn't know she was his sister." He said defensively, "She was disturbing the body and I had every right to call her on it."

"I'm not okaying what she did," He snapped, "But you could have been a bit more sensitive before you," he looked down at the piece of paper he had crinkled in his hand and grimaced, "'Shined a light in the DOA's face and neck while showing it to the victims' sister, Detective Rukia Kuchiki.'" He glared at the Kurosaki and placed both hands on his desk, leaning forward so his scarred face was only inches away. "What the hell were you thinking, Detective?"

The man in question glowered and rose slightly from his desk, making him eye level with the angered chief, "I was thinking about a dead body on the streets, I was thinking about IDing him before he became another John Doe in the morgue, and I was also thinking that the woman in front of me could help." He scowled heavily and continued, "I wasn't thinking about her identity or her connection to the vic or even her detective's badge."

"Well then you should start, shouldn't you?" His voice boomed, causing everything in the room to ring with deadly silence. Angrily, Kenpachi pushed himself away from the desk and began to pace. Kurosaki watched him with stride back and forth in the crammed space. His large body bumped against desk after desk as he trampled the strewn papers on the floor.

Kurosaki grimaced, "She shouldn't have gone. She knew what she was getting into; her supervisor shouldn't have allowed her to go."

"That's just it," Kenpachi muttered, "Her Lou didn't even know she was gone until Detective Abarai came and asked where she was."

"Then she doesn't have any sense of professional responsibility." Kurosaki grumbled as he leaned down in his chair and retrieved a couple of his trampled papers. He tugged at one the moment his boss stepped on it, successfully ripping the paper. "She shouldn't have made an emotional connection."

"Well of course," Kenpachi muttered as he gave the Detective a hard look, "But that doesn't mean that I haven't already gotten three calls from the two eight complaining about your behavior."

"Whiners," the Detective huffed, straightening the papers and then spreading them out on the desk. "She'll get a psyche exam, be given a few weeks off and in a while she'll be back."

"She already had a psyche exam," the Lou told him in a salty tone. "And she passed."

Kurosaki flicked his eyes at his boss, "No shit?"

"Yeah, she barely passed but she did." He gave him a hard stare, "Apparently, compassion and grief are actual human emotions, you should try them out Kurosaki."

"Already did," he muttered sourly as he leaned back in his chair, "Didn't like it."

"All the same, I want you to go over to the two eight and attempt to apologize to her." He ordered harshly.

The detective sputtered on another swig of stale coffee and fought as he tried to sit upright. He stared wide-eyed at the 31st precinct's lieutenant, a drip of coffee dribbling from the side of his mouth. "You've got to be joking." He cried angrily.

"No," the Lou said, "I'm not. I don't want anymore tension between us and those pussy-lickers over at the two eight." He pounded his fist on the detective's desk and caused more than one person in the room to jump in their seats. But not Detective Kurosaki—he wouldn't be intimidated, not by his boss, not by anyone. "Your problem to solve, not mine, so get your ass over there and handle it." 

"But I didn't even do anything! He yelled slightly as the Lou began to retreat to his office.

Before he crossed the threshold and slammed the door in the Detectives face, the Lieutenant turned back and shouted, "This isn't about feelings, it's about politics! Be there at noon or your ass is fired!"

He banged the door closed behind him. Detective Kurosaki narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands into a fist, deftly, he threw his balled hand down onto the desk veneer and let out a frustrated yell. With another heaving shout Detective Kurosaki swiped his coat off the back of his chair, his keys out of his pocket, and was out of the door in a matter of seconds.

-------

Traffic was annoying.

Detective Kurosaki—Ichigo to those who knew him well—considered throwing his siren on the top of the car and speeding through each light in order to get to the two eight just a bit faster. He scowled, just so he could _leave_ a bit faster.

Damn his boss. Damn him for making him go down to the two eight and apologize to some namby-pamby wuss of a detective. For what, showing her a body she happened to be related to? Pussy.

Not that she would be in the precinct anyway, she was probably at her tiny apartment somewhere in the city, crying her eyes out over her dead brother. People die, big deal, it's only a matter of how and when.

He stopped at a bright red light and scanned the streets—it was a habit. It started off after his first collar. You had to be vigilant, on the alert at any and every moment. You never know when someone might try and rob an old man on the street or rape a woman in some dank alleyway. The world was a disgusting place, where murderers ran free and crime happened regularly. But it seemed that only the innocent ever died. The ones that deserved death either got away with it or were put in a cell somewhere, fed three meals a day, and got fresh air… all to be "punished."

Disgusted with his bleak train of thought—even though it was the truth—Ichigo charged forward when the light changed to a dim shade of green… he desperately wanted to get this over with.

The two eight was only a four miles away from the three one, which was made it exceedingly difficult to determine which precinct would handle which cases. Almost every time a body was found on the boarder there were verbal—and sometimes physical—confrontations. Ichigo had been at the three one only two years but he already detested the cocky cops from the two eight. They were impulsive, unprofessional—if the detective from last night was any indication—and they always had to get in the three one's business.

Ichigo scowled and maneuvered his car so it would fit in a tight parking space directly in front of the two eight. Gripping the wheel tightly he screwed a frown onto his face and threw open the door.

But not this time… no, this time there wasn't going to be any debate between the two eight and the three one. The body was found on _his _turf so _he _was going to solve this.

He got out of the vehicle and lightly shook his head in the grey morning sun. Good God he hated this place. He had only been here a handful of times but he still hated it. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed a sour taste in his mouth and clomped up the steps.

He opened the door to the two eight and took stock of what was before him. It looked exactly like the three one, desks bunched together, people crammed behind them looking haggard and worn as they answered phone after phone and filed paper after paper. The coffee machine at the edge of the room looked over-used and worn and people were drinking from it as if it was the fountain of youth. Ichigo sighed and made his way across the packed room, occasionally tripping over a phone cord or a coat sleeve or even someone's foot. He apologized briefly and continued, heading straight for the back office.

He stood outside and shrugged his shoulders softly before he rapped lightly on the oak door in front of him.

"Enter." Said the voice on the inside.

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow up. 'Enter,' did this guy think that he was from the 13th century? He sighed and shook his head before opening the door and slipping through. Ichigo took a second to appraise the room as he came inside; it was a sparse place save the copious amount of metal plates commending his work as an excellent police officer.. There were no pictures of family members or children plastered on the walls—only medals of recognition from the city as well as a diploma from the police academy and at least twenty other plaques praising either bravery or smarts. Ichigo snickered slightly—_somebody_ wanted people to know who was boss.

He strode forward, his footfalls were heavy on the wooden floor, heavy enough to make the man hunched over the desk look up. By the looks of things he was a very tall man, around forty years old with graying brown hair and thick black glasses framing his brown eyes. He had a crinkled but warm smile that he presented to Ichigo after he raised his head from the papers he was working on.

"Can I help you?" He asked kindly.

Ichigo felt himself cringe inside, compared to his lieutenant this guy's voice had more sugar in it than a children's television show. _No policeman should ever sound like that_, he thought bitterly.

But instead of throwing up inside of his mouth, Ichigo forced a smile through his teeth—God _that_ was painful—and said, "Yes," he dug into his pocket and pulled out his badge and flashed it quickly at the Lou. "I'm Detective Ichigo Kurosaki from the three one—"

The man behind the desk whistled softly and chuckled, "Walking into dangerous territory aren't you Detective?"

Ichigo tried not to scowl, "I'm under orders." He stated plainly.

The man quirked his eyes, "Oh? From whom, might I ask?"

"My lieutenant," he answered quickly, "Zaraki Kenpachi."

The man's smile waned slightly before he asked softly, "To do what?"

Ichigo could tell that the man already knew the answer. He was just playing with him. Ichigo scowled even harder. The one thing he hated more than being played was being made a fool of.

He gritted his teeth and answered, "I think you already know the answer to that."

The man nodded slowly and smirked, "I do. After all, I was the one who contacted Kenpachi after Abarai filed his report."

"Are we in a police precinct or a third grade classroom?" Ichigo ground out as he crossed his arms menacingly over his chest. "I tell it like it is at a crime scene, she goes into hysterics, and you expect me to come crawling back and apologize for hurting her feelings?"

The Lou's smile became harder as he leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. "You didn't crawl…" he said simply, "You drove."

Ichigo began to growl. The man behind the desk didn't let his eyes off of Ichigo's stoic form. After a moment he sighed and rose, coming back from behind the bureau and standing before the angry detective. "Let's not start off on the wrong foot. We already know that you and I dislike each other only because we're from different precincts," he offered a limp smile and said, "But let's be friends just for today. I'm Lieutenant Aizen, nice to meet you." He extended his hand and Ichigo begrudgingly shook it.

"Likewise," the detective said blandly.

Aizen shook his head lightly and went back to his desk. Almost loftily he picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. He paused for a moment and then said, "Yes… Kuchiki? Come here please." He nodded and set the phone down then turned to Ichigo. "She'll be here momentarily."

Ichigo jerked his head in acknowledgement.

It only took a few more seconds before there was a slight knock and a rather short woman stepped through the door. She saw her Lieutenant first and frowned lightly, "You wanted to see me?"

Aizen smiled softly, "I didn't," he said warmly as he pointed towards Detective Kurosaki, "_He_ did."

The female detective followed the direction he was pointing in, when her eyes hit the orange haired detective they immediately widened and scowled simultaneously. The dark circles under her violet eyes combined with the red rims surrounding them made it seem like she could kill him with a single glance. Oddly enough, Detective Kurosaki felt his heart speed up and wondered if she was working some sort of voodoo curse on him.

Aside from her eyes the Detective noticed things about her that he had not noticed two nights ago—when it was pouring rain and black as a bottomless pit. Her skin was a creamy white color that seemed to go on endlessly all over her body. She had small but strong arms, and he could just imagine those arms grabbing fleeing suspects three times larger, slamming them into the ground, and slapping cuffs on their wrists. She possessed a small waist that curved at the hip, giving her a sharp hourglass figure that led down to tiny legs and feet you could even call delicate.

She was dressed conservatively, brown slacks covered her small legs and a pale blue, high cut, sweater hid the entirety of her pale skin and shapely figure. She had her badge clipped to the waist of her pants and in the dim light from the office it was the only thing on her—beside her eyes that is—that shined.

Ichigo finished his scrutiny in silence and felt turned his eyes on her menacing face—never had he seen a woman look so well, _unwomanly_ before. The way she was staring at him now… he felt like his face might just melt off.

"What," she muttered quietly, "do you want?"

"Now, now, Rukia…" Lieutenant Aizen murmured teasingly, "Play nice," he moved towards the door and opened it softly, "I'll be back in a minute."

He offered one more smile before exiting and shutting the door behind him, leaving the two detectives alone in his office. Ichigo wondered as the Lou was departing what exactly he would say to the distraught woman before him. Should he try to comfort her? Should he attempt to give her a hug? Should he try to apologize? _Yes_, he thought contentedly, _an apology would be good… even though it was all technically her fault._

However, as soon as the door was closed, there wasn't a chance for him to say a word before Detective Rukia Kuchiki opened her mouth and snapped, "Any leads?"

Ichigo started at the question and frowned when he noticed that she had her arms crossed and was staring at him with another lethal glare. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head as if to say: "Spit it out you ass."

Slowly, he shook his head and said clearly, "No leads."

"Have you canvassed the area?" She asked quickly.

"Yes," he answered, "No witnesses."

"Any DNA evidence on the body?" She continued roughly, "Was there a sexual assault? Was it a rage killing or was the suspect covering up anything? Have you gone through his contacts? His enemies? Did you find any evidence at the crime scene that wasn't washed away by the rain? Any fingerprints on the body? Was it a dump job? Was it done on the site? Were there tire marks? Was there anything that would give you any idea of who might have killed him?"

She looked down at the ground as the questions rushed out of her and when she was finished she looked up. Ichigo was surprised to see hard hope glistening in her eyes—but no tears. How was she not crying anymore? She had been a wreck two nights ago. But more than that, why was there any hope in her eyes? From what he could tell, the kill had been perfect and if all truth be told, his gut was screaming that they wouldn't find anything.

Her eyes widened and she waved her hands to get his attention, "_Well_?"

Ichigo frowned and took a step forward; he didn't have any notions of kindness or apology left in his mind, now it was simply a matter of calculation. Stopping directly before her, he made sure to stare the detective in the eye. He paused for a moment and then muttered, "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do I—" she started she coiled away from him, "He was my brother for Christ's sake! Why _wouldn't _I want to know?"

"Your Lieutenant is keeping you off the case." Ichigo said with definition. He tried to look her in the eye but she was now avoiding his gaze. "He's not letting you near it. He knows you'll get to emotional."

"I will _not_!" Detective Kuchiki yelled loudly as she jerked her head upwards and stared at him defiantly. "I know better than to let emotions get in the way!"

"Then explain what you were doing at the crime scene two nights ago." Ichigo demanded as he stepped away from her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you blind?" She cried, "I IDed the body!"

"And you threw up directly afterwards," he pointed out, "Not to mention started crying. Don't tell me emotions didn't get in the way."

"You bastard," she growled at him. Her fists were balled at her sides and she was snarling like a rabid dog. Ichigo knew she was furious and mentally he was kicking himself; his boss was going to fry him alive for upsetting the female detective even more—especially when he was supposed to be apologizing to her.

But before he was able to retract any of his idiotic statements she was in front of him. Ichigo jerked away in surprise but a moment later he felt a squeezing around his throat. She had her pointer finger and her thumb pinched around his adams apple, sufficiently pressuring his esophagus and effectively cutting off his air supply.

"Ack!" He coughed as he felt himself being strangled.

"Listen to me," Rukia Kuchiki growled as her grip on his throat tightened significantly, "I might not be able to work on this case, but you can… and if you don't find out who is responsible I swear to mother fucking _God_ that I will come to the three one, take the case from you, and then kill you myself."

She removed her hand from his neck and shoved it against his shoulder. Ichigo was so caught off guard—with the whole trying to breathe thing—that he staggered and fell against the door with a hard _thump_. Apparently, however, Detective Rukia Kuchiki wasn't finished with him, because not a moment later she shoved him out of the way and yanked open the door.

"Get out." She growled, "If I want to know anything about the case I'll call you, but until then…" she paused and swallowed hard, "Catch the son of a bitch or else you'll have me to answer to."

Ichigo coughed and choked out, "You bi—"

"Is there a problem, detectives?"

The detectives in the room jumped at the sound of Lieutenant Aizen's soft voice permeating the angry office air. The Lou was leaning against the door frame, his eyes examining the adults before him.

Ichigo glared at the easy-going Lieutenant and shook his head harshly. "No problem, I was just leaving." He said coldly, his voice still raw from the choking he had just endured.

"Yes," Detective Kuchiki reinforced as she widened the door significantly, "He was."

"Don't think that this is over," he growled, rubbing his throat softly—good God, he should have expected that.

Detective Kuchiki glared at him, "Is that a threat, Detective?"

Ichigo smirked and shook his head, forcing a rough smile through his mouth, "Of course not," he had to work hard not to snarl, "I only mean that this case isn't over—which means that we're not over." He stepped closer to her, he couldn't say they were nose to nose because that was not only a massive understatement but physically impossible. "And maybe it's a slight threat, so don't forget it." He added before he could stop himself.

"Oh yes, because it's so hard not to," she snapped sarcastically before posing in a mocking a bow and indicating towards the door. "You can leave now."

"Gladly," Ichigo snarled, he maneuvered his way past the angry woman and casually smiling Lieutenant. Furiously, he pushed through the cramped desks and bee-lined for the door. Never had such a little woman made him so _angry_! Detective Kurosaki strode to his car and yanked open the drivers' side door—almost running into the frisky traffic to his left—and glared once more at the two eight.

Huffing indignantly he decided that he'd send her an apology note.

-------

Lieutenant Aizen closed the door behind him and gave a friendly glower to his best detective, "A little hostile weren't we?"

Rukia snorted, "Not anymore than I should have been," she turned to him and lifted an eyebrow, "Did you know that he pointed his gun at me?"

"Truly?" He asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled saucily, "I showed him my badge when I arrived. But later when he showed me my brother's face with that light and I ran off to throw up he must have thought I was someone pretending to be a cop and shoved his gun in my face."

"Interesting."

Kuchiki glared at the floor, "Are you sure you don't want me on this case?"

Lieutenant Aizen sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder; she didn't move but shifted so her violet eyes were boring into his brown ones. He smiled a half-hearted smile and shook his head. "It's policy, Detective; I can't let you work on it." He shrugged, "And besides, he was found on the three one's territory, we shouldn't interfere."

Kuchiki wrinkled her nose, "Leave it to the three one and that hack detective to mess things up."

Aizen squeezed his shoulder and sighed as he moved towards his desk. He sat down and stretched languidly as he shook his head. "He might be from the three one but he's no hack."

Rukia turned her head toward her Lieutenant and frowned, "What do you mean?"

The Lou placed his hands at the back of his head, "Detective Ichigo Kurosaki is his name, he's only been with the three one for two years but in that time he's cleared over seventy homicides and a couple of cold cases. He doesn't have a rap sheet, he's never used his weapon unnecessarily, and in many precincts he's known as the Ruthless Strawberry."

Rukia blinked twice, "Excuse me?"

"The Ruthless Strawberry," Aizen said smilingly, "I know, but apparently 'Ichigo' can also mean strawberry, he's not too happy about the cutesy name but it's stuck." He paused and grinned, "At least yours is better, 'Killer Kuchiki' has a nice ring to it."

The Detective's face dropped, "Can we not talk about Kuchiki's and being killed please?"

Aizen nodded softly and murmured, "You know you have time off you can take."

"I don't want to," she answered immediately. "Byakuya wouldn't have wanted me to sit around crying about him. Truth be told we weren't that close, he adopted me into his family but I knew nothing about him."

"But you were just getting to," Aizen asked. "Weren't you?"

She nodded solemnly, "That's why I'm so upset…" she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Look," she began as she turned to her boss and grimaced, "He married my sister and I knew nothing about her, so when I was found I thought, 'man, I finally have some kind of family,' but the moment we start to get to know one another someone fucking kills him!" She sighed heavily and shook her head despairingly. "No, he wouldn't want me crying for him. He'd want me to get back to work and figure out who…did it." she swiveled her head and glared hard at the Lieutenant, "Which I can't do unless I'm actually able to work on the case!"

"No can do Kuchiki," he shrugged heavily. "I can't let you do that." He sighed deeply and leaned forward at his desk, shuffling through his papers. "But here," he picked one up and handed it to her, "You might as well start on a new case."

Rukia took the paper from him and read over it, "DOA was found stuffed in a gutter and dressed in an Italian suit, no outward signs of trauma aside from a bump on the head suffered from being slammed against the sidewalk, and he was… homeless?" She looked up at him and frowned, "Homeless but dressed in an Italian suit?"

Aizen shrugged and shook his head, "Your guess is as good as mine. Talk to Ishida in the M.E.'s office and figure out what killed this guy." He smiled kindly and winked, "Then find out who did it."

"Give me a week." Rukia sighed tiredly as she headed towards the door.

"How about five days?" Aizen teased, "Twenty bucks?"

Kuchiki smiled half-heartedly, "Deal."

Aizen waved at the door, "Now get outta here and don't forget to brief Abarai."

She nodded and closed the door behind her. Aizen watcher her go with interest.

-------

The door to the morgue opened with a thunderous bang causing the pensive medical examiner, who had recently been staring into a high-powered microscope, to look up and glare at the two detectives walking loudly inside.

"Kuchiki, Abarai," he said lethally as his gaze returned to the microscope and he adjusted the lenses, "If you don't want scalpels in your eyes I suggest you two quiet down and stop disturbing my environment."

"You're such a tight ass Ishida," Renji grumbled as he leaned against a metallic counter. "Don't you ever come out of this rat hole?"

"No." Ishida answered smartly as he peered closer at a microbe he was examining. "I have an adjoining room over to the right where I sleep, eat, and take a piss."

There was silence for a moment, Renji turned to glance at Rukia and saw her roll her eyes. "Come on Ishida," she grunted, "Quit messing around. The Lou told us you had some stuff for us on a murdered homeless guy."

"Ah," he smirked triumphantly as he scooted back from the microscope and put his wire-rimmed glasses back on, "He's feeding you the little fish now, doesn't want you to get near the big kahuna's." He shook his head and clicked his tongue mockingly, "Such a tragedy."

"Shut up and give us what you've got." Renji snapped and began to pace the room.

But Uuryu Ishida wasn't finished with Rukia, as a valedictorian graduate from a top medical school in the heart of the city, he was one of wealth and privilege and wouldn't miss a chance to irritate the hard pressed detective in front of him. He was a thin man with shiny black hair and wire-rimmed glasses framing his bony—and some would say handsome—face, but damn it if that face wasn't mocking her now.

He grinned slickly and wheeled out to the middle of his room and tapped his foot on the ground, resuming the conversation. "I also heard you met the Ruthless Strawberry."

Rukia frowned at him, "How did you know that? It was only twenty minutes ago!"

Ishida shrugged, "Word travels fast around here, so how did you like him?"

Rukia crossed her arms and growled, "He was a bastard."

"Well I could figure that much out from the way you traipsed in here," Ishida remarked cleverly, "But other than that, does he have any leads on your brother?"

"Not one!" Rukia burst, throwing her hands up in frustration, "I asked him all the standard questions and he doesn't have a single answer for any of them. He's an incompetent ass and what's more, he's so _cocky_! I nearly strangled him—well, I did stunt his ability to breathe for a bit—but still, when he told me he'd figure it out without any help from the two eight I just wanted to kill him! I told him as much too!" She huffed and snarled to herself.

Ishida shook his head and sighed, "Calm down Kuchiki," he said coolly, "There's nothing you can do about it so don't worry about it."

Breathing hard, Rukia swore loudly and shook her head, apparently trying to clear it. She took a few more moments to mutter to herself and pant harshly before swiping her hair back and tucking it behind her ear.

"Never mind," she said calmly after taking several deep breaths, "It's out of my hands. Nothing I can do." She shook her head slightly before looking stoically at Ishida and asking, "What have you got for us?"

-------

"I want to stop somewhere before we go see the vic's family." Rukia told Renji as started the car engine. She sat down and clipped in her seat belt then glanced at her partner to make sure he heard.

"Where?" He asked after he was situated.

"To The Corner." She answered simply.

Renji turned and gave her a surprised look, "The Corner? Why?"

"I need to ask Matsumoto something," she said ambiguously.

Renji sat in the driver's side and frowned at his partner for a few more moments before sighing and nodding reluctantly. "Alright… just make it quick, we don't want her to be made."

"She won't be," Rukia reassured softly, "It'll be quick."

Renji sighed again and put the gear shift into drive, in one smooth move he peeled out of a paralleled parking space and was rushing down the street.

The Corner was a well known avenue for most of the city police department. It was located in the most degenerate part of the city and was home to gangs, prostitutes, and drug dealers. The streets were unclean, the children were unfed, and the people uneducated. It was the worst area of the city and the most frequented by the police. Due to an overactive amount of violence, rape, and murder precincts from all over were assigned different parts of the slums, the two eight just happened to the be the unlucky ones who drew The Corner.

The Corner was the most infamous prostitution section of the city, over one thousand women sold their bodies there every year to the lowest of the streets—or the occasional rich businessman just looking for a fuck. The only problem with The Corner was that women came to the two eight each day reporting rape—only it was difficult to prove due to the low or exceptionally high profiles kept by the suspects: they were either the slime on the earth's crust or the rich of suburbs. The slime could never be found and the rich could never be convicted.

The two eight was at a loss until Matsumoto Rangiku joined the squad. The woman had breasts bigger than her head and simply oozed confident sex appeal. Instantly, she was given the choice of becoming an undercover agent working on The Corner. It only took a moment for her to come to a decision after the Lou told her that young girls—sometimes children—were being violated by men twice or even thrice their age, being given life threatening diseases, and had nowhere to run or anyone to turn to. The next day she was out there on the first section of the corner, talking, walking, and acting like a prostitute. She collared men when they attempted to force her into sex—and was responsible for over eighty convictions in the two years she was undercover—and also educated other girls on how to protect themselves physically and sexually. Matsumoto Rangiku was a saint to the working girls, and due to her exceptionally low cover she had not been made as a cop yet. The department was exceedingly proud of her and even hailed her as the best thing to ever happen to undercover police work.

Rukia made Renji scour the streets of The Corner until they found Matsumoto, they had to drive around for twenty minutes—avoiding the beckoning calls and flashed skin that was thrown their way—before they noticed a strawberry blonde woman who had extremely voluptuous breasts and was wearing a leather outfit that didn't hide much of anything.

"There," Rukia said softly, nodding her head in his direction.

Renji gave a low whistle, "Those girls must be freezing, hell it's only forty five degrees outside."

"That's what you call someone who's committed to their work."

Matsumoto noticed the car coming forward—a standard and bland vehicle without all the bells and whistles of the common cop car—and immediately noticed the driver and passenger. With a flick of her hair she winked at the two other women she was standing with and sauntered sexily over to the car.

Renji rolled down the driver's side window and gripped his hands on the wheel. Rukia snorted and rolled her eyes, she knew that every man in the precinct wanted to sleep with Matsumoto—and her partner was definitely not an exception.

"Hey sweethearts," Matsumoto giggled—damn, even her giggle sounded sexy—as she leaned against the car and shifted so her large breasts were pushing into the vehicle, the cold didn't help either, it made her nipples poke through the thin leather of her top. She wiggled her eyebrows and licked her lips, "The name's Hollywood."

Renji loosened his grip on the wheel and turned to her, "And why's that?" He asked as casually as he could, Rukia, however, could hear the slight squeak in his voice.

"Because you can see the stars when you're in Hollywood." Matsumoto purred. Rukia saw her partner gulp and begin to sweat; she knew she needed to get this over with fast before the man got a boner.

"Matsumoto," she murmured under her breath, to distract anyone who might be watching, Rukia reached in the glove department and pulled out a city map, she pointed to a spot and frowned. "Can you ask your girls if they saw anything unusual last night on Coleburn Avenue?"

"You want to do any more than talkin' hun?" She asked sweetly, twirling a lock of her honey hair around her cheaply manicured finger.

Rukia shook her head and pointed emphatically to the section of the map she was holding, "No, I just want to know if they saw anyone murder Byakuya Kuchiki."

"Your brother, hun?" Her eyes flickered over to Renji and he blushed a bit—it looked funny with his tattoos. "I heard about him."

"Yeah," she muttered, slamming her finger against the map and frowning viciously. "He was killed two nights ago. Just keep your eyes open."

Matsumoto pouted and removed herself from the window of the car, "Well, I guess I can… but it'll cost ya extra."

"Go Renji, fast." Rukia ordered. Renji's foot slammed on the gas and he screamed out of the street. Behind them, they could hear Matsumoto kicking dirt and yelling curses at them.

"Bastards!" She cried, "What! I'm not good enough for you? Fuck you!"

Rukia glanced in the side mirror, she saw Matsumoto jogging a bit after the car and flicking them off. Weakly, she smiled and made a mental note to buy her a drink when the woman came out from undercover. She turned to Renji, "She's doing a really great job," she remarked, "She made the girls behind her think she was asking for a threesome whereas I was asking for directions." She shook her head in appreciation, "She's good."

"Yeah," Renji exhaled, he took one hand from the strangled steering wheel and wiped a few beads of sweat from his face, "Yeah… she's _really_ good."

"Oh…" Rukia muttered softly as she fiddled with the pocket of her jean jacket. "So you, ah, got a boner?"

"A little one, yeah."

"I figured."


	3. The Second Murder

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Hey peoples, a new chapter for you all. A few small notes: I really appreciate everyone who has reviewed so far and I'm not ignoring everyone who has reviewed. I intend to reply to each and everyone of you. The only thing is I check my email rarely, I mean, like maybe once a week or so (I kind of have an email stalker who wants to chat all the time) but I will do my best to review to everyone! ;)**

**DON'T FORGET TO REIVEW!!!)**

**Chapter 2**

**Two months later.**

Ichigo Kurosaki looked at the clock on the corner of his desk and realized it was three in the fucking morning.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed dejectedly. This was going nowhere.

_Three days after the Murder:_

"_Hey Hanataro," Ichigo called from across the room. The nervous man jerked his head from his desk and glanced quickly around the room, looking to see who called him. Ichigo snorted and waved his arm, "Come over here for a second, would you?"_

"_S-Sure," he said squeakily. He rose from his chair and slowly made his way over to Ichigo, his hunched form bumping into seven other people in the twelve foot trek. "Did you need something?"_

"_Yeah," Ichigo answered, holding the file the young man had given him hours ago, "Did you leave anything out of your report?"_

_Hanataro shook his head, "I didn't leave anything out. It's all there, well, what we could find anyway. There was hardly anything left in the rain."_

"_I know…" Ichigo muttered, biting the bottom of his lip and rifling through the papers, "But are you sure there was nothing there?"_

"_Positive," Hanataro sighed, "No weapons, no fingerprints, no footprints, no car tracks… nothing really." He shook his head and leaned forward a bit, pointing to paragraph in the report. "But I also added the part about the body being disturbed by the victim's sister."_

"_Yeah I noticed that," Ichigo said wearily. He nodded at Hanataro and shrugged, "Alright, thanks."_

"_We've got some of the dirt from the scene in the crime lab," he supplied, "But I doubt we'll get anything more than the vic's blood and street dirt._

"_Yeah…" Ichigo paused for a moment and then tapped his pen against his cluttered desk. Hanataro, seeing that he really wasn't needed any more, began to slink away. _

_But Ichigo's voice stopped him, "Hey, Hanataro…" he began, pausing until the timid man was back by the side of his desk. _

"_Yes?" He squeaked._

_Ichigo began to tap his pen against the desk in earnest, beating the poor plastic prison against the fake wooden veneer. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow. How could he phrase this without seeming… curious?_

"_How did Rukia Kuchiki act," he started slowly, "When you first met her?"_

_Hanataro was silent for a moment before he answered carefully, "She seemed… solid, I mean, I guess, that would be the best word to describe her. Well, she seemed genuinely… _concerned_ after she threatened me and disturbed the body."_

_Ichigo nodded, "Thanks, Hanataro." He offered him a small smile and sighed heavily, "I'll call you if I need anything else."_

"_You got it." He murmured weakly and began to slump away._

Ichigo sat at his desk, the clock taunting him, telling him that it was well past time to be home. He groaned and finally stopped the torture on his pen, which had been successfully beaten for the past nineteen hours.

It was just this _case_, not to mention the people it involved. He didn't want to make this girl, this woman, Rukia Kuchiki, think that he was an incompetent louse at his job. He had told her that he was going to solve this case and he was definitely going to do it. Just when he saw her eyes—those red rimmed eyes filled with inky heartbreak—he knew that he had to give her the conclusion she was craving.

He just didn't think he would be able to.

_Four days after the Murder:_

_Ichigo Kurosaki made his way down a flight of steps, with each one the temperature in the room became colder and colder. He was one his way down to the M.E.'s office. It was not a place he liked to visit frequently, but today he needed something—anything to get his feet back on the ground with this case._

_He opened the door to the chilled habitat and called out, "Orihime? Are you here?"_

_A clatter of metallic equipment fell to the ground with a bang. "Oof!"_

"_Orihime?" Ichigo called, a bored tone overtaking a worried one, he knew that Orihime was such a klutz that this kind of thing happened daily. "You okay?"_

"_I'm fine!" Called a squeaky voice from behind the examining table. A moment later there was a small grunt and a bright, cheery, red-head popped up, attempting to settle a few wisps of her hair. "Hi, Ichigo!" She bubbled._

"_Hey," He muttered with a significantly less amount of enthusiasm. "Please tell me you have something for me."_

_She blinked and cocked her head to the side, "Huh?"_

_Ichigo sighed and lowered his head a bit, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "The body, Orihime. The dead detective, Byakuya Kuchiki, do you have anything from his autopsy report?"_

"_Oh!" She cried, giggling loudly and knocking her hand against her head, "Sorry! So many dead people in here I forgot!"_

_Ichigo nodded and sighed wearily, "That's okay."_

_She laughed softly, "Just let me get the file!"_

_Ichigo nodded and leaned up against the counter, waiting for her as she flitted around the room in search of the file._

_Inoue Orihime had been in the morgue for only a year and a half but was already the chief medical examiner on board—something about cut backs and multiple resignation letters, but that wasn't the point—it was mostly because of her skill with dead bodies and figuring out what killed them._

_When she joined the squad she told everyone that she had always planned on being a detective—putting scumbags in jail and setting the innocent free, "all that jazz" she called it—but when she reached high school she realized she had more talent in forensics than the actual tough guy, detective, routine. She ended up plowing through medical school, even graduating a bit early, and starting a job in the three one immediately._

_And she was good. No doubt about it, she was one of the best medical examiner's in the country… a little absent minded but still good._

"_I-chi-go!" She called, cutting up his name and warbling them delicately, "I found the fi-le!"_

"_Excellent," he muttered, wishing she would stop singing, "What did you find out?"_

_Orihime came back from the file room and dropped it on the examining table; smiling brightly at him she beckoned him forward. "Come on, I don't bite." She grinned and watched as Ichigo approached her slowly._

"_Okay," she said, her voice turning from one of happiness to one of seriousness, "This is what I found out: The victim had no defensive wounds on his body, which means he was slashed across the throat first and died because of it. The seventeen stab wounds were inflicted post mortem. But the cut in the throat is deep so the perp was standing relatively close to the vic—"_

"_Which means that they must have known each other." Ichigo interrupted._

_Orihime nodded, "Or that they were making some sort of deal; maybe the detective was undercover and the perp made him."_

"_Not likely," Ichigo muttered, rifling through the papers, "Byakuya Kuchiki was one of the best at the two eight."_

"_Maybe he was a dirty cop," she suggested, "A deal went bad, threats were exchanged, the perp got him before Kuchiki could."_

_Ichigo shook his head, "No, Kuchiki wasn't a dirty cop."_

_Orihime sighed and shrugged, "Alright, if you say so."_

_Ichigo glanced at her and found that she was staring at him, "Anything else?"_

"_Hn?" She murmured quietly, "Oh! Yes!" Her eyes dropped down and she rifled through the rest of her sheets, "The blade that he was cut with… I wasn't able to identify the cut marks but there was a strange residue on the incision in his throat."_

"_What is it?"_

_Orihime looked at him and shook her head, "It was rusted steel."_

"_Steel?" Ichigo asked, "Then shouldn't you be able to trace it by the type of blade manufactured with that steel?"_

"_That's the thing," she continued, reaching over to a counter and pulling a small Petri dish from a shelf. "I carbon dated the steel and found out that it was over six hundred years old."_

_Ichigo turned to her and raised both of his eyebrows, "Are you serious?"_

"_Yep! No doubt about it, the thing that killed Byakuya Kuchiki was a 600 year old blade."_

_Ichigo shook his head and muttered in disbelief, "Well there shouldn't be too many of those out there."_

Ichigo turned back to his notes and looked them over again. There were only two places in the city where you could purchase swords that old. One was a very respectable museum-like establishment that took applications before interviewing potential buyers. Ichigo's gut didn't even tell him to check out the place—he knew that the criminal he was dealing with wouldn't have left identification anywhere. If he was smart enough to murder someone in the rain where no evidence could be found then he was definitely smart enough not to go and leave his ID at some fancy collector's museum.

The other location that sold ancient cutlery was a far less prestigious place directly on the brink of the slum/suburb divide. The place was called _Urahara's Pawn Shop_ and was infamously known throughout the precincts for being the first place to look for stolen or seized property.

_Five days after the Murder:_

_The car pulled into a worn-down space directly in front of _Urahara's Rough Pawn Shop_ and Detective Kurosaki killed the engine. He sighed dejectedly and exited the vehicle; needless to say he was not all that thrilled to be having another meeting with Mr. Urahara Kiskue. _

_Mr. Urahara was a frequent guest of the three one mainly because he would buy and sell any property presented to him. He had been collared a few times for possession of stolen property, selling defective stuffed animals to children, and providing falsified tax documents to the government. All in all, his business dealings were a bit shady, but the guy himself wasn't half bad. _

_He was a sprightly type of man, always smiling and laughing with his three employees: a young and timid girl with large eyes and a surprisingly strong punch, a boy with red hair and a cocky attitude, and a giant of a man who enjoyed shoving remedies for God knows what at Ichigo's face whenever he entered the store. Although a couple people Ichigo worked with said the guy was off his rocker—he would whisper cryptic messages about death and the afterlife to anyone who would listen—Kiskue himself believed that Ichigo was some type of bonafide death god bent to save the world from destruction._

_Sometimes when Ichigo had to come into this store he wished he had a tranquilizer gun._

_He opened the door to the car and smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket, feeling the hard bulge of his gun underneath the soft leather of his coat. Ichigo allowed himself to smile for a moment, most of the time he was glad that he was armed._

_Ah hell, he was glad he was armed _all_ the time._

_The door to the shop tinkled as Ichigo made his way inside._

"_Ah, Detective Kurosaki, how are you on this fine winter's morning?"_

_Ichigo looked up to see Urahara Kiskue leaning against the cash register, wearing his trademark white and green striped hat and old-fashioned clogs. He was casually twirling his habitual cane as he fiddled with the cash register._

"_Doing just fine Mr. Urahara," he answered just as casually._

"_Do you need something?" He asked suggestively. "I just received a nice shipment of lion plushies from a desolate housewife in the slums, or perhaps you would be more interested in a classic collection of bunny-shaped pez dispensers, in very good condition too."_

"_No," Ichigo answered, "I'm not buying anything today."_

"_Won't you ever buy anything from me?" Urahara sighed hopelessly._

"_Only if I'm forced," Ichigo replied sassily, he shook his head and continued, "No, this time it's police business."_

"_Oh?" Urahara asked lightly, "What about?"_

"_I need to know if you've sold any of your exceptionally old katana's lately." The detective asked, taking a menacing step forward._

"_My katana's?" Urahara quirked, twirling his cane around his fingers, "I haven't sold one of my katana's in over seven years."_

"_Are you sure?" Ichigo asked hesitantly. He had known Urahara to lie before. "You're not lying to me?"_

_The shopkeeper gasped in fake horror and pressed a hand to his chest, "I would _never_ Detective! How could you think such things?"_

_Ichigo shrugged, "Not hard to. But just to be sure I'd like to see all of your receipts for the past year." _

_Urahara sighed thematically, "Alright… if you must…" he beckoned to the side and called forth his helper, Ururu. She scuttled forward, clutching a box of receipts in her unsure hands._

_She handed the box to him and softly murmured, "Here you go."_

_Ichigo sighed and shook his head at the mass of leafy papers all jumbled and confused inside the box. "You're just trying to make my life difficult, aren't you?"_

"_Of course not my precious little Shinigami!" Urahara cried reassuringly, he came forward and patted Ichigo on the back, leading him towards the door. "I'd never do anything to make your life difficult!" He shoved him a little closer towards the door and even opened it for him._

_He sighed and exited. _

All of the receipts had been clear—messed up, but clear—and didn't have anything about selling ancient katana's. As far as Ichigo could tell, it was another dead end.

Wearily, he went through every dossier in the past five years that contained anything about ancient swords—nothing.

He even looked through an entire century of police archives for any cases dealing with missing and ancient swords. There was nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. He couldn't find anything that would connect a six hundred year old sword to Byakuya Kuchiki.

_Eight days after the Murder:_

_The apartment on Byakuya Kuchiki was neater than any apartment Ichigo had ever seen in his entire life._

_There were four rooms—a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room, and a bathroom. As Ichigo walked through the place he felt as if he was in some sort of alternate dimension. The hallways were spotless, all of the walls were white, and the not a single piece of furniture was out of place._

_In the kitchen there were three copper skillets hanging artfully from the wall, there was a single set of knives, a toaster, a microwave, a stainless steel refrigerator, and a very modern stove. Nothing was out of order, the food was labeled and organized inside of the fridge, there was not even a single crumb left outside of the breadbox._

"_OCD much?" Ichigo mumbled to himself as he continued to inspect the house._

_The bedroom was just as immaculate. The sheets were a dull shade of beige and were pressed without a wrinkle against the mattress. There was nothing in the dressers but immaculately folded pants and shirts arranged by color and garment. There was also bedside table with a lamp and a novel on it by none other than Plato._

_Then there was the bathroom. One toothbrush and one hairbrush and one tube of toothpaste and one bottle of shampoo and one bar of soap. Only one of each, only what was needed, only one._

_Ichigo whistled softly and wondered if the guy had even possessed a social life. Lightly, he pulled out the drawer of the nightstand and saw Kuchiki's policeman's badge and gun, but nothing else was missing. Truth be told it was so clean Ichigo was starting to get hives._

_The living room was bright and white. It had intelligent pieces of dull art neatly arranged on the white walls, the white furniture was decorated with striped pillows, and a glass coffee table gave the room unneeded class. In the room there were two built in bookcases filled with philosophical novels, biographies by Nobel Prize Winners, and a couple of photo albums._

_Curiously, Ichigo pulled out a photo album and began to flip through. There were images of the victim as a child—didn't need to see that—with proper and extreme looking parents, as a young boy with intelligence boosting toys, as a school boy wearing a uniform, as a high school student, and a young man at college graduation. The only thing Ichigo found rather creepy about these pictures was the fact that Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't smiling in any of the photos—not even as a child._

_He continued to flip through the album. He was about halfway through when he saw a rather surprising woman standing next to Kuchiki. His eyes widened and he bent his head forward and scrutinized the picture a bit more effectively. It took him another minute to realize that it was in fact _not_ the ball-busting detective he had met seven days ago but someone who looked astonishingly like her._

"_Jesus…" Ichigo murmured softly, running his fingers over the frozen image._

_It was a tired-looking woman almost identical to Rukia Kuchiki, small and fragile but older and sick looking. But she was standing next to Byakuya Kuchiki and he was actually smiling—a barely visible smile but still a small one. He had his possessive hand on her small shoulder. Frowning, Ichigo examined the photo a bit more and noticed an expensive ring on his finger… and then another one on hers._

"_He wasn't found with a ring," he mused softly._

_Curiously, Ichigo turned a few pages in the book and saw a couple more pictures of the woman and her husband, they looked happy together—they looked like they were in love. The pictures only continued for three pages before they were replaced with blank sheets. Ichigo turned back one and noticed a short newspaper article._

_He read slowly, "Hisana Kuchiki died Tuesday at the age of thirty two from complications of a long battle with cancer. She leaves behind a legacy of kindness and a good works. She is succeeded by her husband, Byakuya Kuchiki, and her younger sister, Rukia Kuchiki."_

"_Damn…" Ichigo murmured softly. "She was young."_

_He replaced the album in the shelf and made one last inspection of the apartment._

_There was nothing to even suggest dirty dealings or grudges or any type of disruption._

_Ichigo left the perfect apartment glowering._

He was running out of options.

The clock on the side of his desk was now blinking past three. He wasn't going to get out of here tonight… not that he had anything to get home to, but that wasn't the point. He needed sleep. He could think better with sleep.

Ichigo jerked his head up and shook it violently. No. No sleep until he had gone over all the angles, the buzzing in his head was just something to be ignored. Groaning, he got up from his desk and rushed over to the coffee machine. He poured the last coup of gritty and cold coffee and swallowed it in three gulps. Disgusting.

Frustrated, Ichigo returned to his desk and ran a hand through his spiked hair, slowly, he reached over to the side of his desk. He pulled out a file, reached for the photos of the crime scene, and glanced at the surrounding areas. He needed a more thorough canvass.

_Nine days after the Murder:_

_He walked around the edges of the crime scene, his feet making indentations on the muddy ground. It had been only a couple of days since the death, the rain, and the female detective with an attitude, but the poor sanitation of the slums meant that the water would stay there until it was splashed away or evaporated._

_The yellow tape was still there but it was stretched and ripped. Apparently, the people of this part of town stayed away from anything having to do with the police, not that Ichigo would blame them anyway—most of them dabbled in too many felonies to want to even stand ten miles from a police officer._

_Ichigo's feet squelched on the ground and smacked off with a sickening squeal. He toed around in the mud, knowing that there was nothing left to find but hiding out for anything. He shook his head and ended up squatting near the ground, poking the soft ground with a gloved hand._

_He lifted the finger to his nose and sniffed gently. Just dirt. Everything else was gone. Lost in the thunder of the rain._

_Ichigo sighed and placed his head in his hands. He didn't want this to become a cold case. He wanted to solve this. He needed to solve it._

_The look on her face… not the one that had threatened him, but the one that had showed him such pain and suffering… He needed to take that look off of her face permanently. But how was he supposed to do that when he didn't have a single lead?_

"_Jesus Christ," he muttered despairingly, running his dirty hand through his orange locks. "What am I going to tell the Lou?"_

_Drearily, he moved back to his car and started the engine. Taking one last look at the desolate place he turned around and drove away._

_The only things he could see for the next hour were the pain-filled eyes of Rukia Kuchiki…_

Damn, he couldn't start feeling guilty. Not now. Not ever. Right now there was nothing else he could do. There just wasn't any evidence available to finish this case.

Sighing, Ichigo shook his head and closed the folder in front of him.

-------

The Corner was dark at night; it was the only time Matsumoto Rangiku felt truly in danger. The daytime was treacherous enough but at least there was light to see by. But at night, when the broken streetlights fizzed silently in the dark you couldn't see a black gun, a hidden knife, or a crowbar stuffed in a jacket. During the day there was less hostility between the girls—women, mothers, beaten wives, who were doing just about anything to earn a little money. But during the night, they would scratch out each other's eyes just for a ten minute job in the backseat of a car, they would yell, scream, and kick just to earn the fifteen dollar blow job or the thirty dollar fuck. During the night there were rapists, whackos, and murderers who would do anything just to jack off into some unsuspecting woman.

That was what made Matsumoto so passionate about her work. She had a duty to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. She had been working this stretch—parts of it anyway—for almost two years, and each one of those days she inspired the working girls to go into the city, find a real job, and start living clean. She told them that they were worth more than thirty dollars a pop, they had brains and they had an inner strength that was stronger than anything, or anyone, else. Day after day she handed out condoms she had gotten from the precinct, instructed women on how to go and get HIV tests at free clinics, how to say no to different types of drugs, and how to defend themselves against rapists. She told them that if they had to use drugs they shouldn't share needles, she told them that if it ever got to be too much they should just come to her and not try to fix their problems with stimulants, alcohol, or the rusty edge of a knife.

She was their friend and in turn, they were hers… and when she needed help they were right there to give her any information she needed.

She passed under the only working streetlamp on the destroyed sidewalk and ducked her head down. She didn't want to be seen tonight, not with what she was carrying.

Her footsteps became more insistent as they hit the dark gray concrete, she needed to go faster, she needed to get this to Kuchiki as soon as possible and then get back to her post. She promised Setsuki she would talk to her about the best way to go about a pregnancy.

Matsumoto heard stones crunch behind her, her heart jumped unwillingly in her chest and she quickened her pace even more. She was almost thirty feet ahead when she heard a click and she immediately knew that it was the sound a .22 cocking and getting ready to shoot. She instantly covered her head with her hands and dodged to the side. The shot never came and she sprang out from her hidden crag—running this time. Her heels—her hooker heels—tapped hard on the sidewalk and she sprinted forward, a bag clutched in her hand. Kuchiki needed this bag and she needed to get it to her!

Matsumoto only made it a few more feet before the overly expensive heel on her left foot cracked off, her leg jerked to the side, and her ankle snapped in half. She bellowed in pain as she fell to the dirty ground with a painful crash, the skin ripped off her knees with an agonizing screech and her nose crunched back into her face as she fell directly into a pile of rancid water and cigarette butts. Her scratched hands began to ooze blood and her nails chipped off as she grappled at the rough sidewalk and tried to pull herself up and out of the way.

The footsteps behind her were getting louder, pounding on the sidewalk one at a time. Closer and closer. Matsumoto felt the tears fill her eyes, the pain in her ankle was intense but the pain in her chest was worse—she was letting down her girls, she was giving them to any man who told them they were only worth what he wanted to pay, she was letting Kuchiki's only chance of closure slip through her fingers—she needed to get up, she needed to fight.

Swiftly, her damaged hand reached down to the inside of her thigh, grasped the butt of her gun and yanked it out of the holster. Swinging around she cocked the gun and attempted to fire.

The bullet hit her brain before she even had the chance to pull the trigger.

Matsumoto Rangiku's body fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, the stranger lowered the gun, walked forward, grabbed the small bag from the dead woman's hand, tucked it inside of his jacket, murmured, "Happy Birthday," and walked away.

Matsumoto Rangiku's body wouldn't be found for three days.


	4. Meetings and Murder

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Wow, this is a really long chapter! I hope everyone likes it! I'm really thankful for all the reviews I've received so far, thank you all so much! And you know something, I've never really considered writing mystery novels before—fantasy, romance, comedy, etc.—but not mystery**

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!! ******

**Chapter 3**

"We're dealing with a serial killer."

Ichigo Kurosaki's head jerked up from the desk, the inevitable crick in his neck making a horrid cracking sound. He groaned and immediately raised his hand to massage the throbbing spot. A few seconds later, the words "serial killer" sank deliberately into his brain and his eyes widened in realization.

"_What_?"

His captain slammed a folder onto his desk, his scarred and muscular hand breaking one of Ichigo's many pens in half. Ichigo frowned and took the manila folder from him, opening it slowly. Instantly, images of a murdered hooker were plastered against his eye.

"Jesus," he muttered, taking a closer look. Her face was pale and aside from a single bullet hole in the center of her forehead, unblemished. Her eyes were stained with running mascara and her mouth was smeared with the remnants of cheap lipstick.

Her body was dressed provocatively, well, as provocatively as a dead hooker could be dressed anyway. Her large breasts were practically bulging out of her top and her legs were spread so her short skirt almost hiked to her hips. Ichigo also looked down to her feet, one of her shoes was missing a heel and on that foot her ankle was curved at an unnatural angle.

"Damn…" Ichigo muttered, even though he wasn't all that impressed. He had seen to many deaths far more gruesome than this to be disgusted. "But what does this have to do with a serial killing?"

The captain pointed to the first picture—an all encapsulating shot of the dead woman—and said, "Do you recognize her?"

Ichigo took a moment longer to stare at the photo and ended up shaking his head. "I don't recognize her."

The chief narrowed his eyes, "That's Matsumoto Rangiku, she was a cop working undercover as a hooker."

"What precinct?"

His lieutenant paused and shook his head, "The two eight."

Ichigo raised his head even higher, "You can't be serious."

Kenpachi nodded, "Yeah, and another twist… it was her birthday."

Ichigo groaned heartily and put his head in his hands, "Damn it."

"She was found this morning… on _our _turf, the M.E. says that she's been dead for three days." His captain continued. "She was found on The Corner, a known prostitution area but the two eight has assured us that she was working undercover. They've given us her file and we've going over all of her contacts, jobs, and possible enemies."

"What do you want me to do?" Ichigo asked calmly, already knowing the answer.

"Look, Kurosaki," his chief said as he leaned down and glared at him, "You're the best damn detective on my squad, you had better figure out who's knocking off people from the two eight."

"On their birthday's no less." Ichigo muttered softly.

"Just shut up and get over there," his boss ordered.

Ichigo snapped his head up and sputtered, "Wait, you mean go to the two eight? _Again_? What if I run into that Kuchiki chick?"

The chief glared at him for a moment and offered him a snide smile, "I have every confidence that you you'll figure something out."

-------

Detective Kurosaki walked back into the two eight with a soured expression covering all of his face. Not one for pleasantries, Ichigo banged through the doors and made straight for the Lieutenant's office. God forbid he be seen by anyone… especially that female psychopath.

He pushed by lines of desks, occasionally looking up at the policemen and women he passed, but mostly focusing on not tripping over phone cords and computer cables. Perhaps it was a compulsion, perhaps it wasn't, but Ichigo—even though he told himself he wouldn't—ended up raising his head and searching the room.

He saw aisles and aisles of haggard men answering phones and taking notes, he saw women gulping down coffee and tapping away at ancient computers. He saw red heads, blondes, baldies, and even a guy with feathers sticking out of his head.

But he didn't see Rukia Kuchiki or her partner… what was his name… oh right… Renji, Renji Abarai. The red-head with the crazy tattoos that he had been rumored to receive on a night when he had been shit-faced drunk.

He had heard good things about that team—Kuchiki and Abarai, that is—they had been together for only a little over a year but had solved numerous cases, even going as far as having a different case every week. The "Dream Team," as some precincts called them. It sounded cliché, but if any other expression had been used it wouldn't have done them justice. He had heard that the two worked in synch: Abarai drove while Kuchiki navigated, Abarai took notes while Kuchiki examined the body, Abarai took care of the paperwork while Kuchiki worked with the D.A., things like that.

In truth Ichigo was a tad jealous of such great pairing. He had tried having a partner once and well… truth be told it hadn't worked out as he planned.

It hadn't worked out the way anyone planned.

Ichigo shook his head and tried to focus on the task at hand. There was no point thinking over something that couldn't be changed. No point. No point. No point.

He glanced up and scanned his eyes around the precinct once more. This time, he noticed two desks near the back of the room—the only two that were unoccupied. Checking his surroundings once more—to make sure he looked inconspicuous enough to be walking around—he inched closer to the unoccupied work spaces.

He reached them with relative ease and smirked when he took a look. He took another step forward, it really wasn't hard to figure out which desk belonged to whom.

On one bureau there was an array of pictures all starring a dorky red headed kid smiling goofily with two aged adults, presumably his grandparents or guardians. Beside the pictures were small knick-knacks dressing up the bland space, Ichigo noticed a pen shaped like a snake and a stuffed animal in the likeness of a large baboon—apparently with tattoos drawn in Sharpie all over it's back. All in all, it was a homey space, personal and easygoing. He knew within an instant that it was Renji Abarai's knees that cramped into this small desk every day.

The other desk, however, was so bland it was almost painful to look at. There were no pictures, no essence of family, no special pens, hell, there wasn't even a personalized message on the computer screen. Ichigo raised his eyebrows and even clucked his tongue a bit at how… tasteless _her_ desk looked. '_Her_' being the pushy hard-ass detective with the luminous eyes.

The only thing of actual color piled on her space was a collection of photos displaying the dead bodies of both Matsumoto Rangiku and Byakuya Kuchiki. Frowning, he leaned forward and pushed aside some of the papers. Inside were ballistics reports, the medical examiner's findings, crime scene photos, and detailed reports of the cases both victims had been working on for the past five months.

Why was she looking over this stuff? She wasn't supposed to be working on the case at all… and if she was working on it, was she trying to figure it out with her partner or by herself? She shouldn't even have these. Casually, he glanced over at Detective Abarai's desk but didn't see any of the same information. This… wasn't right.

"Is there some reason you're pilfering through my desk, Detective?"

The voice was cold and even lethal, it sent a slight chill through Ichigo's spine and he turned quickly. Good God, there she was… the ball-busting, ebony haired, pain in the ass…

…And her partner, who was actually wearing a rather deadly glare on his face. Well, almost deadly, he did look rather comical with those tattoos.

"Just examining your pictures of the latest vic," he answered casually, "You seem to have clearer ones than mine."

"In addition to better photos," Detective Abarai added nastily, "The two eight also has better detectives, better leaderships, and better coffee." He gave Ichigo an irritating smirk and crossed his leather-encased arms over his broad chest. "Maybe you should transfer."

Oh so it was a turf war he wanted right now? Two could play at that game. Ichigo shook his head and grinned wickedly, "Sorry, I wouldn't want to meet my premature death by working with you guys."

Detective Abarai's smile dropped like a dead fly, Kuchiki, who didn't seem to wear smiles at all, glowered. "Nice try, Kurosaki," she hissed, "Now tell us what you really want."

"'Us?'" Ichigo replied cattily, "My, aren't you the cozy twosome?"

If it were possible for looks to kill, Ichigo was quite sure he would have been murdered twice over, dismembered, and then tossed piece by piece into a food processor. Although oddly enough, it felt kind of fun to tease them like this.

Abarai, however, didn't find any of Ichigo's remarks amusing, and in one swift move he had a fist wrapped around the front of the inferior detective's jacket. Ichigo didn't even make a grunt of surprise as he was manhandled by the muscular detective. He merely let his hands go limp at his sides and made a point of not fighting back. Abarai pulled him close to his face and snarled, "Are you insinuating something detective?"

"I don't know," Ichigo answered calmly, "What do you think I'm insinuating detective?"

"You little—"

"Cool it Renji," The female detective barked, placing a hand on his fist. She was outrageously shorter than her partner but she possessed a power that made him stop dead in his tracks. Renji dropped the Detective Kurosaki immediately, but pushed him slightly and made his lower back slam against Kuchiki's desk. Which in turn caused the papers and photos to scatter onto the floor.

She cursed and immediately dove to the floor. The pictures were fluttering and spreading out so they covered a good five feet of space. Ichigo looked down and immediately sat a picture of her brother's corpse, his head and his sliced throat. He was down on his knees before he knew what he was doing. Quickly, he picked up a few shots of her brother that had glided near him.

He handled them gingerly and positioned them so they'd be facing right side up and forward. He glanced up and handed them to Detective Kuchiki, who was looking at him with a funny stare, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. 

Ichigo blinked at her but in a moment the expression was gone, replaced by her normal one: disdain and distaste. As she grasped the photos from Ichigo her fingers brushed his unintentionally and he wondered if he was the only one who felt a tiny electric shock go up his arm.

Detective Kuchiki didn't even bother to thank him as she climbed to her feet and put the photos back inside the manila envelope. Ichigo also stood and watched as she impatiently she flicked some hair out of her face.

He took a moment to appraise her outfit, firmly believing that you could learn much about a woman from what she was wearing. Once again it was a rather bland outfit, she wore nothing excessive and nothing unnecessary. She had donned beige pants and a light purple top, three quarter sleeves, scoop neck, nothing that was immodest or the least bit revealing—Ichigo blinked, why was he thinking of that?—and of course a pair of comfortably brown walking shoes. No jewelry, no rings, no earrings, not even a necklace. The only extra accoutrement she possessed was her detective's badge. Good God, that woman would have fit in at a Puritan church.

Not to mention, her outfit only succeeded in telling him that she was as boring as hell. It was only her eyes… her eyes were telling him that she had one of the most unique and fantastic sparks he would ever see in his life, but that she also had a will of iron and determination of steel.

She was like Superman, only three feet shorter and with a uterus instead of testicles.

Whoa… _not_ something he wanted to think about right now.

"Did you want something else, Detective?" She asked after a few moments of silence. Ichigo jerked out of his daze and started, right… he was here for a reason.

"Yes," he said, "Yeah, I was here to talk to your lieutenant." He answered slowly, taking a moment to reorient himself.

Detective Kuchiki narrowed her eyes and raised one of her delicate hands. She pointed an unpolished nail over at the chief's office and smirked. "He's over there."

Ichigo sighed roughly and straightened his leather jacket, which, he was proud to report, looked tougher on him than Detective Abarai's leather jacket. He turned away from them and nodded once before knocking on the lieutenant's door and entering.

Rukia Kuchiki watched Detective Kurosaki as he opened the door to the chief's office and went inside. Her face expressionless, she kept straightening the pictures until she forced her anxious body to sit in her chair. Sighing, she opened her top drawer and placed her brother's folder—and now Matsumoto's as well—inside.

Renji followed suit and sat down, sending her a speculative look. "He was checking you out, you know."

Rukia turned to him and frowned, "What are you talking about Renji?"

Her partner shrugged and began to poke his stuffed baboon with his snake pen. "Come on; don't tell me you didn't notice."

"I didn't." Rukia replied shortly, turning to her notes on their most recent case. The dead homeless guy dressed in an Italian suit was solved, something about him being a witness to an affair between a CEO of a multibillion dollar company and a married housewife, he threatened to go to the papers unless he got a million bucks and an Italian suit, which, ironically, ended up being the suit he was buried in. Needless to say the hit man had been caught, the CEO tried, and he was now serving twenty years in a federal prison.

And she had another twenty bucks in her pocket.

"Well," Renji sighed, inclining his head towards the lieutenant's office. "He was definitely checking you out. And don't forget that comment he made about us being a couple… yeah, he's interested, even if he doesn't know it yet."

Rukia sighed and dropped her pen on the paper; she leaned back in her chair and glared at Renji, who was busy tossing a plastic football between his hands. He tossed it to her and she caught it between deft fingers. "Did anyone ever tell you," she said supremely irritated, "That you watch too much Oprah?"

"Not Oprah," he said as he motioned for her to toss the ball at him, "Dr. Phil."

Rukia glared and shot forward, throwing the tiny plastic football so hard that when it hit Renji between his eyes he cried out and clutched the bruised spot. "Holy fuck!" He yelled, loudly enough to make the entirety of the precinct stop what they were doing and stare at them.

Rukia smirked with satisfaction, wondering if she made him bleed. She snorted and resumed her notes while Renji howled and cursed.

"You're such a girl," she muttered, a smirk still prematurely curled on her lips.

"Bitch." He growled, feeling the bridge of his nose to make sure nothing was broken.

She shook her head and looked back at the pool of papers before her. A few moments later she heard the door to the lieutenant's office open and out came Detective Kurosaki. She paused and allowed her stare to linger on him for a moment.

Tall, mysterious, ruggedly dressed, and semi-good looking… okay, a little more than semi-handsome, but she didn't care about that… He had a face that… well, it was an annoying face to begin with, but once you got past the fact that it was in a perpetual frown… it might have been kind of nice. But only for a while. Once he opened his mouth and those arrogant words came out it was like a tirade of pride and stupidity.

All that and she had only met him three times.

She watched him until he left the precinct, small folder in hand. Taking the tip of the pen into her mouth and chewing lightly, she reached into the drawer containing her brother's and Matsumoto's file. This time she was looking at Matsumoto's report.

"Hey Renji," she said after a moment, "Do you think Matsumoto followed up on anything we asked her to do?"

"I don't know," he answered, his voice high and nasally, "Are you ever going to apologize for tormenting my nose?"

"I don't know," she smirked and then cocked her head to the side, "You want to go and ask a couple of her girls?"

"You know we're not supposed to be on this case," Renji scowled, "You _do_ know this, right? _Right_?"

"Technically," Rukia said, raising one finger, "He told me not to work on my brother's case… I, however, want to figure out more about who killed Matsumoto Rangiku, in a hope that they might be connected."

Renji rolled his eyes, "But they're not connected," he picked up the football and began twirling it again. "Different methods were used in each murder, Matsumoto and your brother were working in different sections—so there's no connection there, and they were both killed in different parts of town… two different cases."

Rukia shook her head and her face became somber. "No... They were both killed in different ways, that's true; however they were both killed on their birthdays, they were both working for the two eight, they were both found in the slums—they were just at separate ends, nothing major—and…" she paused, sighed, and ran a dainty hand through her hair, "They were both connected to me."

Renji sat upright in his chair and immediately, his eyes widening in alarm. "Wait, whoa, you can't think that you—"

"Come on," Rukia cut him off harshly, "Don't tell me you didn't notice it." She looked down at her desk and muttered, "Byakuya was my brother and Matsumoto was my friend, not to mention I asked her to investigate the death of my brother only two months before she died."

"Rukia," Renji said firmly, "You can't think that you had anything to do with their deaths."

"I know I did." She muttered softly—too soft for her partner to hear. Grouchily, Rukia raised her head and shook it lightly, "Still, I want to go talk to her girls. I want to know if she told them anything."

"You know she didn't," Renji snorted, "She was a cop first and foremost. She wouldn't have told them anything."

"I don't care," Rukia said, rising from her chair and grabbing her coat from the back, "Come on," she motioned to the door. "I'm leaving with or without you."

Renji sighed with the futility of it all and got up from his own desk. Frowning, he seized his jacket and his car keys. Rukia had already gone to the door and was exiting the precinct.

Inwardly, Renji groaned, Rukia Kuchiki really was an acquired taste.

-------

Rukia Kuchiki hopped out of the car and immediately went running, her feet sliding on the muddy ground. Three girls before her were running from her, tripping and spinning as they flew away.

"Stop!" She called. Renji was out of the car behind her, rushing forward as well, "Stop! We just want to talk to you! It's about your friend, Matsumoto, or—or—Hollywood! She called herself Hollywood!"

One of the three girls stopped running; the other two disappeared into the grubby streets of the slums. The third, the one who had actually stopped, was standing—more like shivering—in the cold morning air. Rukia sprinted up to her and reached a hand out, palm upwards, defensively and comfortingly.

"Hi," she panted, waiting for her partner to catch up to her. The girl was tentatively easing away from the detectives. Cold and afraid, she looked like a deer ready to bolt at the first sign of a gunshot. "What's your name?"

She was biting her lip so hard Rukia thought it might start to bleed. "Cocoa," the girl finally answered, her voice squeaking softly. She was dressed in a colored push-up bra with a see through top, a heavy coat hanging weakly off her shoulders. Her legs were almost completely uncovered—only sheltered from the cold by a pair of runners bottoms and connecting fishnet panty-hoes. She blinked slowly and ran a dirty hand through her gritty hair. "It's hot and sweet and best for cold nights." Her voice was riddled with self disgust.

Rukia nodded her head, her eyes shining with compassion. "What's your real name?"

The girl choked a little and tears began to form in her eyes. "Susame… m-my name is Susame." She looked up and offered a wobbly smile, "You know… you're the first person to ask me that since Matsumoto."

"I want to talk to you about Matsumoto." Rukia said gently, "She was your friend, right?"

"Yes," Susame muttered, "She was always looking out for me. She made me give all my… _customers_… condoms to wear, she gave me her coat when I was cold, and… and… she did my nails for—f-for me."

"She was a good person." Rukia said softly, feeling comfortable enough to put a hand on Susame's shoulder. "But, Susame, there's also something you should know."

The young girl—hell, she couldn't have been more than seventeen—frowned, her heavily mascaraed eyes batting away tears, some of her makeup was running down her cheeks. "What?" She asked, her voice burbling slightly.

Rukia sighed and gave Renji a small worried look before turning back to Susame. "Matsumoto," she said softly, "Was a cop."

Susame didn't look the least bit surprised. She coughed slightly, shook her hair again, and crossed her thin arms across her chest. "I thought something like that was going on." She sniffled and wiped her nose with the dirty sleeve of her jacket. "I didn't think it would be that big though." She looked up at Rukia, "She was undercover?"

Rukia nodded, "Yeah, most of her work was catching the rapists and murderers who would prey on girls like you."

Susame snorted, "It's not like we're not asking for it."

Rukia shook her head, "She also made sure that you girls had protection, someone to talk to, and someone to advise you where to go for help and stuff."

"Yeah, she did do that." Susame agreed, giving the female detective a short look. "What was she doing for you?"

"She was working on something very important for me," Rukia said, "Did she ever ask you and some of the other girls if you witnessed a murder on Katashi Avenue the night of January 31st or on the early morning of February 1st?"

Susame nodded and shrugged, "Yeah, she asked a couple of the girls, but none of them knew anything."

Rukia's face—well, her eyes more than anything else; her face had been stoic since they had started talking—fell so quickly even Susame felt sorry for her. Sighing, Rukia turned to Renji and shook her head slightly; the disappointment was even evident on his face.

"You're sure?" She asked, facing Susame again.

She nodded, "I'm sure."

"Alright," she sighed, "Thank you for your help..." she paused for a minute and reached into her wallet, she sighed and pulled out what she had, "Here, I only have twenty three dollars." She muttered, pulling the money out and offering it to the young prostitute.

Susame's eyes began to tear, "So I'm an information whore now?"

Rukia shook her head, "Not at all," she grabbed Susame's grubby hand and pressed the money inside of it, "I just want you to get a good meal. You're too skinny."

The girl had tears running down her face, "T-Thank you."

Rukia nodded at the young girl, "And if you ever need help, don't be afraid to call me." She handed her a card with her precinct number on it. "I might not be Matsumoto, but I can help."

She nodded and wiped her eyes on her dirty sleeve, smearing mascara across her cheek. Rukia attempted to smile at her—didn't work too well—and motioned to Renji, who entered the car and began to start it up.

"She had a package, you know."

Rukia turned immediately and frowned, "What?"

Susame began to wring her hands, "She had a package t-the night she died." She swallowed and closed her eyes slightly, "It was a little baggy thing. It had some stuff inside of it; she had it in her hands when she left."

"Do you know what was inside of it?" Rukia demanded—a bit too strongly.

"N-No," Susame stuttered, "I remember asking her what it was but she wouldn't show me. She just said she needed to get it to a friend on Tokkio Street."

"That's where I live." Rukia muttered softly. "But it wasn't found on the body…" she swiveled and stared wide-eyed at Renji. "It wasn't on the body! She was killed over what was in that bag! Maybe it had stuff about my brother in it, oh fucking Christ. We need to find that file!" She wheeled wildly at Susame and nodded emphatically. "Thank you, God, thank you so much." She ran up and hugged the startled girl—it was awkward and strange and too hurried to be considered a real hug.

She detached herself from the girl and rushed to Renji. "Let's go." She demanded quickly.

The car squealed out of the slums, leaving a rather startled girl behind. Susame blinked and watched it depart, practically screaming down the streets. Smiling softly, she grasped the money in her hand and turned to walk away. She was going to get a hot meal tonight.

-------

They drove around for a week. Looking and looking and looking until they were all but exhausted.

They talked to hookers, murderers, drug addicts, dealers, rapists, and even a few locals. Nothing came up. So they kept on looking.

It was only until they walked into a gathering of homeless people did they find out anything useful.

One particular bum remembered a day, about ten days ago—the day of Matsumoto Rangiku's murder—that a new guy had appeared and stayed to warm up near the fire. According to Bum Number One the new guy had stayed only for a few moments before throwing some kindling into the fire.

"What kindling?" Rukia had asked crisply.

"A bag," Bum Number Two had answered, taking a swig from a broken plastic cup Bum Number One had given him—God knew what was in it. "I told 'im it wouldn't burn good but he threw it in anyway." He shrugged and turned back to the flickering flame.

Rukia had gotten into the bland car and didn't say a word until Renji dropped her off at Tokkio Street where she went up the steps to her apartment, entered her home, grabbed a pillow, pressed her face into it, and screamed with all her might.

-------

"Orihime," Ichigo pleaded, opening the door to the M.E.'s office and startling the pretty red-head, "_Please_ tell me there was something on the body. Something, _anything_, that would help us figure out who this guy is."

"Sorry Ichigo," the woman sighed. She crossed her arms underneath her enormous breasts and successfully pressed them upwards. Ichigo could see her cleavage and was instantly floored… floored, that is, because he didn't feel any sort of desire raging towards her. Normally there was a flicker there, especially when she wore low-cut shirts like today, but oddly enough… nothing.

"I don't have anything for you." She said as she shook her head, her long, reddish-orange hair twinkling in the fluorescent lights. She pouted. "It was a clean gunshot wound to the back of the head, a .22 killed her."

"What about her ankle?" He asked, sounding almost desperate. "Was it broken on purpose?"

Orihime shook her head, "It was a clean break Ichigo, her shoe was missing a heel and she tripped on the ground, it happens… only this one broke her ankle."

"Her hands?"

"Scraped on the sidewalk."

"Her knees?"

"Ditto."

"Anything to give us a clue?"

"Nothing."

"Damn it!" He cried, banging his fist on the examining table. "There should be something!"

Orihime cringed at his outburst and furrowed her brow, "I'm sorry, Ichigo."

He shook his head and tried to calm down. "I'm not worried about me," he intoned glumly, "It's the people this psycho is going to kill next who need to worry."

She nodded and sighed. She had to do this before she lost her nerve. "Ichigo… I know you're upset but… would you want to maybe…?" She never finished her sentence, because a moment later, he was gone, his scent swishing around the swinging double doors.

-------

"I'm going Rukia." Renji murmured softly, rising softly from his desk and yawning loudly. He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned, Jesus Christ, it was already past midnight. For the fourteenth time that week, Renji grumbled that the city should be paying them overtime. He glanced over at his partner, still knee deep in papers and photos. On one side of her desk was the file for their most recent case—a business man dropped dead from having hemlock put in his morning coffee—and on the other side was the "Birthday Basher's" file. That was the nickname they had given the monster who killed Matsumoto and Byakuya.

He smiled softly at the sight of her, so dedicated to her work yet so wrapped up in the misery he feared she would never smile again. He sighed loudly but she still didn't look up. He wondered if she were actually asleep. He called her name and her head jerked towards him. "What?" She asked dazedly.

"I'm going home," he said, waving his hand in front of her face teasingly, "You should too."

Rukia shook her head and began to shuffle her notes for the millionth time. "No… no, I can't go home yet. I need to look over a couple of things first."

Renji sighed again and shook his head in futility. "You work too much. The city should—"

"Pay me more," she finished wearily, "I know, I know, I know…" she gave him a weak shrug—pathetic really—and motioned to her notes, "I'll take a cab home, okay?"

Renji nodded and rubbed his eyes, "Try and get home before I come in tomorrow morning, okay?"

She nodded and waved him out the door, her eyes already back on her notes; Renji made his way towards the exit and slipped his coat over his shoulders. The night air was cold, even though it was the first of April, and his breath puffed out before him like little clouds. He worriedly took a look back at the precinct, he could see some lights on inside the dank room, there were a few other people there and only one from his side… only Rukia. Renji shook his head—he seemed to be doing that a lot lately—and inwardly knew that she was going to end up killing herself with paperwork.

-------

"Working hard or hardly working?" Purred a voice right beside of her. Rukia jerked awake and instantly opened her eyes; they had been closed, had she been asleep? She wasn't supposed to be sleeping, she had work to do.

"Now are you unconscious or just ignoring me?"

Rukia recognized the voice now. It was Yumichika Ayasegawa, a cop on permanent desk work; he was a nice enough guy, young, inexperienced in the field, and more suited to file papers than to handle a gun. He was a bit self-absorbed and a bit too pretty for Rukia's taste, but he was a good guy and nice to have in tight situations. Only you couldn't talk to him for too long… it kind of seemed like he drained your energy once you spoke with him for a while.

She sighed and tried to smile limply, it didn't work, her face wouldn't move. "Sorry," she muttered, "I'm just a bit sleepy."

"You really should get some rest," he said, flicking a lock of his beautifully cut brown hair from his unblemished face. "It is very hard to look attractive when you don't get your beauty sleep."

Rukia rolled her eyes, "Then what are you still doing here pretty boy?"

"So you do think I'm pretty?" He crooned, fluffing his cheeks with his palms, "Oh, good, I was starting to worry… no one had told me in a while."

"Ass." She muttered dryly.

"Ah, don't think say things." Yumichika replied, "I'm simply here because I didn't finish the necessary paperwork for my transfer."

Rukia's attention was perked, "Transfer… where?"

He sighed and put up his hands defensively, "Don't kill me okay?"

The female detective scowled and quirked an eyebrow upward, "Depends on what you're going to say."

Yumichika inched a bit away from her and lowered his voice… even though they were the only two people—besides the janitorial staff—left in the precinct. Rukia glanced at her clock… damn, three in the morning, she needed to get some rest before her day—and Renji's day—started at eight. "Well," he whispered dramatically, "I'm getting a transfer to the three one."

Silence. Rukia didn't say anything as she sent a death glare of great proportions in Yumichika's direction. He withered on the spot and began to scoot away. He was almost two yards gone when the wearied detective sighed and shook her head. "Don't worry. I won't kill you."

Yumichika's eyebrows quirked, "Really?" He intoned.

"Yeah," Rukia admitted, "I don't even blame you. I'm not all that enthusiastic about being a member of the Death Precinct either."

Yumichika shrugged, "I like the name. It'll stick too."

"Shut up," Rukia teased softly, "But no, I don't blame you." She looked at him questioningly, "Don't you have a friend at the three one?"

"Ikkaku Madarame?" Yumichika asked with a grin. "Yeah, we've been close since we were kids, it'll be nice to work with him again. He was always more of the aggressor than I was." He smiled at her, "I'll be content to drive the car." His smile made its way into a grin and after a moment of awkward silence he indicated towards the door. "Come on, I heard Renji's threat earlier, I'll take you home."

"I don't know," Rukia muttered, "I have some stuff to do and I could just sleep in the cave." Indicating to the small room containing two bunk beds that some people used when necessary. Her gaze lingered on the area when she looked up at him and was faced with a murderous frown. "What?" She asked quickly.

Yumichika leaned forward until his nose was only an inch from hers, "Your skin is oily, your eyes have bags under them, your hair needs some serious saving from those ghastly split ends, you are in desperate need of a shower, and it is a necessity that you get some clean—and different—clothes on. You're going home, washing yourself, then coming into work a little late. The Lou will understand. I mean, come on, you didn't even take any days off when your brother's body was found." He stood and offered her his hand. "Do you understand?" He cocked his head to the side and smirked, "Think of it as a present for me."

Rukia glared at him and unconsciously patted her hair, completely forgetting his last comment. "I don't look _that_ bad… do I?" She asked softly.

Yumichika sighed heavily and nodded his head, "Yeah, honey, you do look that bad." He clicked his tongue and shook his hand a bit. Rukia stuffed her notes inside of her desk and finally accepted the outstretched appendage, she stood and grabbed the coat from the back of her chair. Yumichika escorted her out the door and then to his car—he actually had one in this city, Rukia preferred public transportation—where he helped her into the passenger's side.

"Where do you live?" He asked her pleasantly.

"Tokkio Street." She answered feeling the weight of sleep for the first time pressing down upon her eyelids. Christ she was tired, she hadn't gotten much sleep over the past few months, only about four hours a night. Tonight would be no exception.

"I didn't know you lived near the three one." Yumichika remarked casually.

"I try not to advertise." She answered sleepily.

As they drove Yumichika turned on the radio and tuned it to a classical station. The soft melodies of Mozart wafted over her and caused her head to roll back onto the leather headrest of her seat. It sounded so good, felt so good… she felt completely at peace.

"Don't fall asleep yet, Kuchiki," Yumichika teased, "We've still got a bit of a ways to go."

"Okay…" she murmured, trying not to fall asleep to the delicious music.

"Well, well, well…" Yumichika murmured softly, "So Killer Kuchiki falls asleep to Mozart… who would have thought."

Her head jerked up and her heart faltered in her chest. She swallowed loudly and clutched the armrest. "P-Please don't call me that." She stuttered. Her eyes glanced down and then looked up at him. He was frowning.

"Why not?" He asked her curiously, "Why don't you like that name?"

"It was my brother's nickname." She whispered softly.

Yumichika's face fell just a bit and he nodded, "I understand."

Rukia's throat tightened a bit and felt her fingers curl into a fist. "'I understand,' 'I understand,' 'I understand!'" She burst. "Why do people keep saying that? How could anyone possibly understand anything about something that _I_ don't even understand."

Yumichika was silent as Rukia fumed in the passenger seat. He shifted the car and looked at the street signs. "I found Tokkio." He said softly.

Rukia sighed softly and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—shouldn't have… well, you know what I mean."

The inside of the car was quiet as Yumichika pulled into a free parking space in front of the apartment building. Rukia sat for a moment in the leather seat and folded her hands in her lap.

"Yumichika," she said softly. "Thanks for the ride."

He grinned at her, the friendly gesture breaking the tension in the small car. She nodded at him—too tired to even shrug this time—and opened the door.

She was about to get out when Yumichika placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked over and blinked slowly, waiting for him to say… what was she waiting for him to say? Something that would heal her damaged heart? Her tortured mind? Her injured body? Her broken soul?

"Kuchiki," he began softly, "It's human to feel grief and anger. Don't worry about it. No one is expecting you to replace your brother and no one is expecting you to take the burden of his death by yourself. It would really help you if you let someone else carry the weight for once."

Rukia sighed and nodded at him, her heart and mind feeling a little better at his kind words. "Thank you, Yumichika. That means a lot to me."

He grinned softly and nodded, "Don't worry about it and don't be afraid to talk to me or anyone else if you feel bogged down. It's not very beautiful to be so troubled."

Rukia rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know… now let me go get some beauty rest, as your… your present did you say?" She teased half-heartedly.

Yumichika patted himself proudly on the chest, puffing up his cheeks and actually transforming into a rather convincing peacock. "I turned twenty nine exactly two hours and nineteen minutes ago."

"Congratulations" Rukia said softly, "One more year till the big three oh."

His eyes narrowed and he glared at her, she snorted as he raised a threatening finger level with her face. "You tell no one," he said in a deadly voice, "About any of this. I'm known for being a snob and a being closed off… don't go advertising."

Rukia got out of the car and nodded tiredly, "Don't worry, I won't." She closed the door and called through the window. "Good night… or, I guess, good morning."

Yumichika waved at her, shifted to drive, and slowly drove off into the night.

Rukia watched him go and sighed in the dark. Wearily, she made her way up into her apartment. She clomped up the stairs and threw her key into the lock of her door. As she entered a bit of clutter tripped her and she stumbled forward, displacing even more junk. She grunted as something large and heavy fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Ah well, at least she wouldn't wake up her neighbors—all of them were old and deaf.

Rukia could now feel sleep coming on quickly. Grumpily, she went into her bedroom and fell onto the bed, setting her alarm for seven in the morning. She cuddled against her cool covers and thought absently that she'd clean up in the morning. Now was a time for sleep.

But… she wished that she could have spoken to Yumichika for a bit more.

In all honesty she wasn't sure she had even wanted to get out of his car. Yumichika was a nice guy, for all his oddities, and she did enjoy his company. Christ knew she had been without anyone's company for so long. Work and home, work and home, work and home… there was nothing more than that. Sure she had Renji when she was at work but… what about when she came home? What was there to look forward to but an empty apartment and an empty bed?

Rukia shook her head and closed her pained eyes. Now was not a time for self pity. She had a job to do, murders to solve, and scumbags to put in prison.

Detective Rukia Kuchiki fell into a fitful sleep. One so irregular that she was not even roused up by the sound of a gunshot going off in the distance.


	5. The Curse of New Partners

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten, I really hope for more. Also, please note that **_**I do not work in law enforcement**_**most of this stuff I learned from Law and Order, which I don't own… sadly. Most of the other stuff, birthdays, names, I made up just because I'm weird like that. And the Bleach things that I don't get right (and or forget about . ) I call creative licensing. ;)**

**To everyone who has reviewed: I LOVE YOU ALL!!!**

**Have fun with this new chapter!**

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!! ******

**Chapter 4**

The telephone on Rukia's beside table rang at six o'clock in the morning. She was jerked violently out of a dream involving her on the roadside, her throat slit and her brother—her dead brother—standing above her and staring at her. His eyes had told her that he was disappointed in her. She had tried to speak with him, tried to tell him that she was doing her best, but he couldn't hear anything she said—her throat was cut and there were no words coming from her mouth, so he just turned his back and walked away. That hurt more than anything else he could have done.

Trembling, she noticed the sweat dripping down her face and felt her rumpled hair, it was sticking to the back of her pained neck.

"Jesus Christ…" she muttered breathlessly, trying to shake the remnants of the dream from her mind.

A sharp, piercing, ring interrupted her thoughts once again. Rukia jumped and swiveled her head until she could see the glossy black casing of her phone, the light was blinking and she squinted at the caller ID. The precinct. Oh, God, were there files she didn't finish? Did she leave something important on her desk that the captain needed?

She took the phone, pressed the 'talk' button, and pushed it against her ear.

"Hello?" She croaked, she paused for a moment and cleared her throat. How much sleep had she gotten? The clock said six so… only about three hours… she needed something to soothe her throat, Christ it was so dry.

"Rukia," it was Renji.

"Renji," she said, why was he calling so early?

"Rukia, you need to go to your window." His voice was terse and hard.

"My window…" she muttered, rubbing her raw eyes. "Why?"

"Just do it!" He roared. Rukia jumped and immediately threw the covers off of her wobbling legs. Blatantly, she noticed that she was still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing yesterday. Christ, she needed a bath. Grumbling, she stalked to her window and yanked back the screen. The sun was bright in the clear morning haze and she had to blink twice before she could see properly.

She dropped the phone.

"Jesus…" she whispered and brought a shaking hand to her mouth.

There were cop cars, four of them, all of their lights were flashing, illuminating the basking streets with red and white. Yellow tape was plastered along buildings and around fire hydrants and cops were swarming around like bees to a hive.

"Rukia… Rukia? Rukia!"

The phone at her feet was shouting at her. Shakily, she picked it up and put it back to her ear. "What happened Renji?" She whispered.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "A body was found in a silver Suzuki at the end of the road, single shot to the back of the head."

"From a .22?" She asked softly.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"Who was it Renji?" She asked, her voice wobbling dangerously.

"Rukia you gotta know—"

"Who was it Renji?" She shouted, feeling the back of her throat close off. She knew who it was already.

"Yumichika."

"Damn it." She sighed, tramping down the wobbling and the burning and the pain. She didn't want to cry… she couldn't… so she wouldn't. She closed her tired eyes for a moment and shook her head, rubbing her temples with her insistent fingers. "Give me half an hour, I'll be down."

"The chief doesn't—" Renji began.

"The chief," Rukia interrupted, "Can kiss my fucking ass." She snarled into the phone. "Just let me get cleaned up."

He didn't argue. "Alright Rukia." He said quietly before hanging up. He didn't even bother to say goodbye.

Rukia stood one more moment at the window and tried to stop shaking.

"_Think of it as a present for me."_ He had said. A present. His birthday. He drove her home.

Rukia grasped her hands around her elbows and closed her eyes. She moved into the bathroom slowly, for fear her legs would give out if she made one false move. Soon enough the shower was on and hot water was rushing out of its head. She removed her clothes patiently, barely feeling the rumpled fabrics fall to the ground. She closed the curtain and went into her shower. She needed to scrub herself clean.

She owed him that.

-------

She had asked for thirty minutes but she was down in fifteen. Her hair was still wet and sticking to her skull and she was wearing no visible makeup. Her face was colorless in the budding daylight except for her eyes: inky, violet, and rimmed with purple shadows and red lines.

She was dressed in black slacks and a light green long sleeve shirt, over her shoulders was a heavy dark coat, and around her neck was a chain with her policeman's badge. She looked haggard and worn and pained.

Renji was standing close to Yumichika's car, he had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was staring at the abandoned vehicle. He felt her approach and spoke softly to her over his shoulder, "One shot, it went through the driver's side window and then to the side of his head."

"Where's the body?" She asked.

"Still in the car." He answered, "They haven't been able to move him yet."

"Let me see him."

Renji gave her a side look, "Rukia… I really don't think you should."

Rukia gave him an empty stare, "Renji… I really don't think it's any of your business."

He nodded, not at all offended by her comment, and moved aside. His partner edged up to the car and looked inside.

There he was. Dead. One shot to the side of the head. There were a few strands of blood running from the hole. She could see how far the bullet went in… it stopped at the other side of his brain, near his skull. Bits of gray matter were leaking from the bullet hole. It only took a moment before Rukia realized it was his brain. She felt her stomach churn instantaneously.

Then she looked at his face, the usually vibrant, cheeky, and a rosy shade of pink was now pale, dead, and hollow. His skin was a sallow color and his mouth was open slightly with little dabs of spittle rolling down his jaw. His eyes were lifeless and staring into vacant space. Rukia took one more look at him, her mind making silent comparisons to the man who had dropped her off last night and the corpse now before her. Slowly, she bowed her head and moved back to Renji.

He was standing, waiting for her; she stepped beside him and stuffed her hands into her pockets. "It was his birthday, you know." She said softly, "He told me last night. He drove me home."

Renji remained silent and the two watched as Yumichika was removed from the car, placed inside of a body bag, and was driven away in a silent ambulance. Neither of them paid any attention to the sun as it rose or the chilly morning air as it was hurried away from the beaming rays.

"Rukia…" he muttered, looking down at his feet as they kicked at a few pebbles away, "I'm going to say this even though you already know what I'm going to tell you."

Rukia blinked her eyes and felt a painful burning lodged behind them. "Alright." She whispered hoarsely.

He spoke softly, "You know what people in the precinct are saying."

She nodded. He continued, "They're saying that you're jinxed."

She was deadly serious, "Is that what you think, Renji?"

He was silent for a moment, staring out into the streets before shifting and looking down at her. His eyes were quizzical and confused, but the confusion was not directed at her, instead it an inner enigma… as if he was asking himself the same question.

"I… I don't know… he murmured softly, "I don't know what I think."

Rukia nodded and motioned to a car resting next to the sidewalk; it was the car they always used for work. He must have gone to the precinct early to get it. She began to walk towards it when she glanced back at Renji and said, "Do you want to drive or should I?"

Renji shook his head and strode with Rukia towards the vehicle.

He drove.

-------

"Kurosaki," Kenpachi yelled from the inside of his office, the detective looked up from his files and turned his head towards the closed door. Ichigo rolled his eyes; his boss was probably the loudest lieutenant in the entire city—he would be heard even if he was shouting in a sound-proof room. "Get in here!" The man roared.

Muttering nonsensically, Ichigo heaved himself from his desk and made his way into his chief's office. He closed the door behind him and waited for the tirade to begin. "Yeah?" He asked blandly, already expecting to get his ass chewed out about being an exceedingly incompetent detective.

"Another murder," Kenpachi growled as he threw a folder down on the top of his desk.

Ichigo immediately came forward and grabbed the file. He opened it and immediately saw the brightly smiling face of Yumichika Ayasegawa. He was grinning almost flirtatiously at the camera. Slightly creeped out by the head-shot Ichigo flipped to the next page and was immediately accosted with images of the same man, only his face was pale, his mouth was open, and his eyes were vacant.

"Shit," Ichigo murmured as he noticed a single bullet hole, splattered brains, and dried blood. He wrinkled his nose and read the report. "Detective from the two eight, single bullet, .22, and he was killed on his birthday." He shook his head and looked up at his boss. "It says here that he was about to transfer to the three one."

"You know Ikkaku Madarame?" Kenpachi asked. 

"Yeah, I know him," Ichigo answered, "What about him?"

"Well, Yumichika was transferring to be over here with him, apparently they're best friends or something." Kenpachi rolled his eyes and continued, "But there's something else."

"What?" Ichigo asked, looking down at the papers and reading quietly.

Kenpachi paused before he smirked and answered, "He was driving your new partner home right before he got shot."

Ichigo's head jerked up. "Wait… my _what_?"

-------

Rukia and Renji made it to the precinct in silence.

When they entered the room, all the people who had arrived early stopped their conversations, turned, stared at Rukia, and began whispering at full force.

"Yumichika drove her home last night…"

"Do you think she wanted him alone…?"

"What about the other two…?"

"She hated her brother…"

"Didn't Matsumoto trust her…?"

"Don't listen to them," Renji told her, his voice was quiet but loud enough to grab her attention, she was glad for that. "Don't listen to any of them. I'll deal with them later."

Rukia smirked, "Sticks and stones, Renji… sticks and stones. It doesn't bother me."

Oh but it did. It did bother her. She just wouldn't let anyone know it.

Her partner sighed, "I wish I had your determination." He glanced around the room and glared at whoever was brave enough to withhold his evil stare. "I would have to shut up each one of them up _personally_."

She shook her head, "Don't worry about it," she murmured smartly, sitting down at her desk, "I don't."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "You don't worry about yourself at all, but _I_ do."

Rukia didn't reply and scooted her chair in. She needed to focus on something… paperwork would be nice; there was always paperwork that needed to be done.

She was only a half an hour into it when she heard the door to the two eight bang open with a force equivalent to a hurricane. She didn't even look up from her paperwork. In all honesty she thought it was simply another angry constituent coming to complain about an unfair traffic ticket. She just kept her head down and continued to watch her desk.

The footfalls on the oak floors were heavy and demanding. Rukia heard the chief's door open with a soft click.

The footsteps stopped in front of her desk.

_That_ was when Rukia looked up…

…Only to find herself face to face with a furiously angry, orange-haired, detective. He came closer to her and slammed his fist on her desk. Rukia didn't even jump as her pens scattered onto the floor and her cup of cooled coffee spilled across the top. The entirety of the precinct was staring in their direction now, phones went unanswered, paperwork fluttered forgotten to the floor, and cups of stale coffee were being overfilled to the extent that it overflowed onto the bearers hands.

Rukia finished looking around the precinct and then looked back up at the intrusive Detective Kurosaki. He was seething, his teeth were bared, his hair was wild-looking and his eyes—Christ, she had never seen anyone look that angry before.

"I think," he breathed hotly, "I hate you."

Renji stood from his chair and placed his arms threateningly on the sides of his desk, his eyes boring into the angered detective's frame.

Rukia blinked calmly at him, "Well that's funny," she replied, "Because I _know_ I hate you."

"Was it your idea?" He growled, clenching his fist on her desk. "I wasn't good enough to take the case so you curl up to your supervisor and ask him to put you on too?"

Rukia felt her temper begin to rise. "What are you talking about?" She asked, trying to remain calm.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" He cried, curling his fingers around the edges of her desk.

"Obviously I don't or else I wouldn't be asking!" She answered, her voice rising and her eyebrows forming a jagged line. She pushed her desk chair out and pressed her palms down, standing up and facing him, her nose practically touching his.

"Don't act stupid," he spat disgustedly, "It doesn't suit you." He glared at her even harder. "You asked to be assigned to this case, didn't you?"

"I didn't ask to be assigned to any case!" Rukia shouted, "What the hell did you drink in your coffee this morning?"

"You little—"

"Kurosaki! Kuchiki! Civility… please."

Both of the detectives, still snarling, turned. Lieutenant Aizen was standing not three feet from their raging bodies. He was smiling easily, his black glasses dropped to the end of his nose, and his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. Rukia was seething, Ichigo was growling, and Lieutenant Aizen was staring coolly at them both.

"I would like you both in my office," he asked pleasantly before turning his back on them. Ichigo shot Rukia a dirty look, which she returned with pleasure. "Now please." Aizen called from his door.

"Bitch." Ichigo snarled.

"Bastard." She shot back.

"Shut up," Renji added, glaring from one person to the next. "Just get in there."

"You be quiet," Rukia snapped rudely. She kicked her chair behind her and threw Ichigo a rancid look. Huffing, she clomped to the chiefs office and threw open the door, only to close it before Ichigo could enter himself. She heard him curse lightly and reveled in it; behind her, he yanked the door back open and entered.

Aizen was seated behind his desk, looking—as always—calm, cool, and collected. He folded his hands before him and placed them on top of three files, each of them evenly spread in a clean, geometric, pattern. He stared serenely at them as Rukia stood to the far right of his office and Ichigo stood to the far left.

Aizen looked at Detective Kurosaki first, "Welcome, Kurosaki, how are you this morning?"

"I'm fine," he answered shortly, glaring at the Lieutenant, "Mind telling me why I'm being stuck with her?"

Rukia shot a glare at Kurosaki then another one at her boss, "Mind telling me what the hell he's talking about?"

Aizen smiled softly, "Mind watching your language?"

"Forgive me for being so uncouth," Rukia mocked darkly, "Mind telling me what the fuck he's talking about?"

"A little better." Aizen admitted, he sighed and looked Rukia directly in the eye. "You're being reassigned."

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, "_What_?"

Beside her, Ichigo blanched, "Reassigned? I'm not taking her."

She glowered at Ichigo and frowned at her lieutenant, "I'm not taking him."

Aizen held up his hands and silenced them both. "You're both taking each other." Rukia began to protest when Aizen gave her a stern look. "Kuchiki, listen… you've got the entire precinct spooked. Everyone thinks you're jinxed—"

"Because my brother, my friend, and my coworker, all of whom I've had contact with, were killed?" She growled and looked away, determined not to let either of them see her sour expression. "Yeah, I know."

Aizen gave her a sympathetic smile, "So you can understand my position." He drew a breath and continued, "I also know that you've been investigating behind my back."

"Not true," Rukia pointed out, "I've been investigating Matsumoto's murder, not my brothers'."

"He didn't say anything about your brother," Ichigo pointed out cattily, "He just said you were investigating."

"I've got a novel idea," Rukia told him saucily, "Why don't you shut up?"

"So intelligent," Ichigo answered, turning to Aizen, "You've got a keeper here."

Rukia reared on him, advancing threateningly, "Why don't you take your foot and shove it so far up your—"

"Detective!"

Aizen was standing now, his hands braced threateningly on his desk. He was staring at Rukia with a softly dangerous glare. Aizen couldn't look murderous if he tried, he was too nice to look so mean. 'Softly dangerous' was probably the most _mean_ he could muster. Still, it had the desired effect, Rukia felt like a child being chastised by her father. She lowered her eyes softly and sighed, finally shutting her mouth. She could feel Ichigo smirking beside her. Christ, she wanted nothing more than to punch him.

"Now," the lieutenant continued sternly, "I want you to work with Kurosaki on this case, do you understand me Kuchiki? You wanted to work on this case and I'm letting you, but you have to do it with Detective Kurosaki. You need to get away from the precinct for a while and this way you can work on the case, let people see that you're _not_ a curse, and… well, there's always a chance to meet new people."

Rukia moaned and shook her head, "You can't be serious."

"Can't I?" Aizen asked, his voice cutting through her mind.

"Lieutenant," she pleaded, "How am I supposed to work with him?" She pointed to Ichigo, "I mean, come on, I _choked_ him the second time I saw him!"

Aizen groaned, "You just have to learn how to work with him without killing him, I don't think that's too much to ask."

"What about Renji?" Rukia demanded, "What will he do?"

"He'll be working with a new recruit," her boss answered immediately, "Her name is Momo Hinamori and she's just been assigned to the two eight."

"So I'm being replaced?" Rukia burst, throwing her hands up in the air. "Will I have to clear out my desk, will my locker be reassigned, and will I ever get my old partner back?"

Aizen was staring at her impatiently now, "No. No. Yes." He sighed and gave her an annoyed look, "Are you finished?"

"No!" She cried.

"Yes, you are," Aizen said, terminating anything else she had to say. He picked up the files and held them out to her. "Here. A complete report of all three murders, one for you and one for Detective Kurosaki."

Rukia took them grumpily and glared at her boss. "And my desk?"

"Take what you need, leave what you don't." he said comfortingly, "Momo won't take your desk, I promise you."

"And where do we go from here?" Rukia asked tartly. "Where do we work on the case?"

"Try the three one," Aizen said tiredly. "You can work there."

"She can't work at the three one!" Ichigo cried, "What's a detective from the two eight got to do with the three one?"

Rukia snarled at him, "Try the entire case, you stupid ass."

"I'm not taking her to the three one," Detective Kurosaki said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Then work at Detective Kuchiki's apartment," Aizen suggested, "It's right on the boarder of the three one and the two eight."

Ichigo snorted, "I'd rather eat rat poisoning."

Rukia raised an eyebrow, "I can arrange that if you'd like."

"I'd stuff it down your throat first," Ichigo snarled.

"Stop!" Aizen shouted. He sounded like a crazed babysitter. "You two are acting like children. Go to a park, work at the zoo, figure it out in a car… _I don't care_! Just stop fighting, start working together, and get this case solved!"

"Why don't we have more people working on this case?" Rukia asked defiantly, indicating behind her to the entirety of the two eight. "We have three murdered cops on our hands! As far as I'm concerned we should have the entire city out looking for this guy."

Aizen was nearing the end of his patience, Rukia could tell, but it still didn't stop her from demanding that he answer her question, "Well?" She intoned.

Aizen gritted his teeth, "Three reasons: One, budget cuts. Two, we want to keep this matter a bit more _private_ in hopes that we can actually catch the killer. And three…" he smirked at them, "We all have absolute confidence that you two can figure it out."

Rukia had never felt like hitting her boss before. Ah well, today was a new day and there were new things to discover… she wondered if his glasses would break if she went for the nose…

Aizen smiled at the two of them, "Just get it solved." He nodded, "You're dismissed."

The two detectives stopped looking at the lieutenant and then glared at each other. Amber met violet and fire erupted instantly. It was a test for dominance, neither one of them wanted to give in to the other and neither one of them would back down. Without saying another word Rukia turned on her heel and stomped out of her boss's office. Ichigo rolled his eyes and nodded in recognition at the lieutenant before exiting after his new partner.

He followed her—at a safe distance—to her desk. Detective Abarai watched Rukia as she angrily grabbed papers from her drawers, yanked her coat away, and began to tramp towards the precinct door, not even saying goodbye or acknowledging his all-too-obvious presence.

Ichigo's eyes followed her angry beeline for the door and wondered what the next couple of weeks—months?—were going to be like. He could just see them fighting over every single decision, taking swings at one another when their guards were down, and even snarling death threats over lukewarm coffee. Ichigo lingered behind a bit and wondered if he should just pull out his gun and shoot himself now.

His sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His groan of distress must have keyed Detective Abarai in because the man looked up and glared at him disdainfully. Damn those tattoos were creepy, and that hair… Jesus, he looked like a carnie.

Renji glanced up at Detective Kurosaki and snickered, "She's gonna end up killing you." He muttered, "You'll have so much _fun_ together."

"Oh, thanks for that," Ichigo clipped, staring at the door and wondering how long he had to live, "Any advice?"

Renji snorted then shook his head and bit his bottom lip, he sighed and gave Ichigo a hard look. "She doesn't cry." He told him softly.

Ichigo frowned and blinked at him as Renji continued, "She doesn't smile either." The man glanced up and stared directly at Ichigo, "You make her cry… I'll kill you." Ichigo had to force himself not to gulp.

Renji's hard glare disappeared and he shrugged, "But if you make her smile… then you're my new best friend." He smiled ruefully. "Got it?"

"Is this some kind of test?" Ichigo asked bluntly. "Do you have an office pool going or something?"

Detective Abarai shook his head, "No test, no pool, just… just a warning."

The two stared at each other for a few more moments before Ichigo nodded curtly and left the precinct.


	6. Blooming and Wilting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Bonjour mes amis! Here's another chapter for you! I hope you all like it, it's once of my favorites.**

**I also wanted to assure my readers that there will be more allusions to the actual anime/manga, but they will come on a little later. This is mostly the brainchild of my imagination and my love of Law and Order…I also appreciate all of the reviews I've gotten so far and I hope I get more, so READ AND REVIEW!!!)**

**Chapter 5**

Ichigo opened the door to the two eight and was met with the beginnings of a warm, lovely, April day. The sun was shining bright and the sky was blue with little puffy clouds traipsing across its cobalt surface. Everything looked so peaceful and happy in the serenity of nature… it was almost revolting.

Then there was her. _Her_. His new partner. The newest bane of his existence. The woman he was supposed to work with, be civil with, and talk with on a regular basis—without stabbing her in the eye. Right now she was pacing back and forth, seething and muttering to herself. In the bright light from the sun she _almost_ looked nice, she _almost_ looked like she would turn her attractive face up and smile at him, she _almost_ looked like she would offer her his hand and take him to a nice, sunny spot in the park.

Almost.

Right now she was frowning, growling, and cursing the ground… Ichigo thought he saw a flower wither underneath her hostile glower. He cringed slightly and began to walk towards her. He noticed as her feet kicked at the ground, an unfortunate stone got in the way of her pummeling foot and ended up flying into the street, ricocheting off of a car, and hitting a stray cat, the mangled thing yowled and scampered away. Rukia didn't even give the thing a second glance. Ichigo whistled and shook his head lightly. She wasn't in a very good mood today… and it wasn't even noon!

He finished clomping down the steps but still stood a ways away from the furious woman.

"Stupid Lou… fucking assignment… can't believe I got stuck with this asshole… fuck!" She snarled, kicking another rock out of the way. This time it hit a fire hydrant, bounced away, hit a car, and ended up cracking the windshield. Rukia glowered at the car as it honked its horn and continued.

Ichigo—after about five more minutes of listening to her cursing and grumbling—came a bit closer and asked, "What do you think we should do first… Rukia?" He paused and rolled her name around on his tongue before saying it. It sounded good, the kind of name you wanted to say again and again.

Rukia turned her head and glared at him, "It's 'Detective Kuchiki' to you, Kurosaki," she snarled a bit more before squashing an ant on the sidewalk. "And I guess we had better go to the three one." She spat out the numbers as if they were poison before she turned and glared heavily at him, "I want you to know that I get your desk, I'm a guest and I expect to be treated like a lady."

Ichigo snorted and chuckled, "You… a lady, yeah right."

Her eyes flared and she ran towards him, stopping only when her face was a mere inch from hers. "Listen," she shouted, "I didn't ask for this but since we have to work together you had better start showing me some respect!"

"Respect works both ways!" Ichigo retaliated, yelling as loud as she, "To get some you have to give some."

That was when he felt it. It was minimal, but it was there—that tiny, infinitesimal, minute spark of what he could only call frisson. A friction that he had only felt a few times before—but nothing like this. It might have been small, but it was definitely strong. Attraction. Damn, it was tiny but it was big enough to make him feel a shudder spiral down his spine.

Something must have showed in his eyes because a moment later Rukia narrowed her eyes and backed away from him, loathing written in every inch of her face. Ichigo swallowed dryly and shook off the feeling of frisson he had experienced only a moment ago.

Rukia shook her head and resumed pacing; she was running her hands through her hair and cursing gently. Whatever the hell it was she felt run up her spine when she looked at him like that… well, she didn't want to feel it again, that was for sure. It was intense, but it was small… and she knew it was safe to say it would go away soon.

Wouldn't it?

"Look," Rukia said softly after a minute, she was turned away, her hand pressed to her forehead. "This case is important to me. My brother was killed, my friend was killed, and then my colleague was killed." She sighed and turned around, her eyes turning into liquid lavender as she penetrated him. "I just want to find out who killed them, if I have to work with you… fine, I'll respect you if you do the same for me. Okay?"

She pleaded silently with her eyes—no, she was too proud to plead, she was demanding this of him… but softly enough to still appear polite.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, "So what, we're supposed to be friends now? All happy go lucky? I don't think so."

"I didn't say I'd like you," Rukia pointed out coldly, her expression changing to one of inquisition to one of distaste. "I just said I'd work with you." She looked him up and down, "I still think you're a worthless idiot without the least bit of common sense or even brains…" she paused and took a deep breath, "But those are simply my opinions. I _will _try to respect you if you do the same."

Ichigo glowered and opened his mouth to make a comment on his "lack of common sense," when the doors to the precinct banged open and a breathless, skinny, bespectacled man leaped out.

"Kuchiki!" He cried, panting slightly, "Thank God you haven't gone yet." He rushed down the steps and stopped in front of her, completely ignoring—or perhaps not even seeing—Detective Kurosaki. He raised his hands in the air and shook his head, his temper rising and his pale face reddening. "I don't have my body!"

Rukia's eyebrows rose, "What?" She asked flatly and looked him up and down, "I see it right there Ishida."

He glowered at her, "Not _my_ body… my _body_! Yumichika! They dropped him off to the three one and some hack medical examiner has got him! I need to examine him myself! I need that _body_!" He cried angrily, punching his right hand into his left. Rukia jerked her eyebrows higher, she didn't think she'd ever seen Ishida this mad before… ah well, there was a first time for everything.

Rukia looked from the heated medical examiner—still in his scrubs, gloves, and white coat—and back to Detective Kurosaki. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed, "Well Detective, are we going to the three one?"

"Yes we are." He answered just as unenthusiastically, he jerked his head to the M.E., "I'm guessing he's coming with us?"

Rukia extended her hands from one person to the next, "Ishida Uuyru, meet Detective Ichigo Kurosaki, Detective Kurosaki, meet Uuyru Ishida."

Ishida's face ceased to twist in anger and he raised an eyebrow, "The Ruthless Strawberry himself? Pleasure."

"Christ," Ichigo muttered disgustedly, "Don't tell me you guys use that term here too?"

Rukia smirked, "Now we do." She pointed to a bland detective's car sitting near the side of the road, "Yours?"

Ichigo nodded wearily, already tired of the female detective and her new companion. He went to the car and got into the driver's side. Rukia and Ishida followed him without complaint and got into the vehicle as well. Thankfully, Ichigo murmured a prayer to the heavens that she didn't have a compulsion to be the driver.

-------

The moment Ichigo, Rukia, and Ishida walked into the three one the people in the building turned to stare—overtly. Rukia felt like she was under some sort of damn limelight. It was fucking annoying.

She grunted in response to a few snickers she got and instantly wished Renji was by her side, not this washed up hack of a detective with fiery orange hair and a smile to kill for.

Her brain must have stopped functioning… a smile to what for…? When did she start thinking about… never mind.

"Well," said a deep, rumbling, voice from the corner of the room. Rukia looked up and found herself staring at a giant of a man, easily a head taller than Renji and three times wilder. He had a tan face with multiple scars, spiking black hair, huge hands that looked like they could kill any person with a single blow, a wicked smile with large canines poking out, and a black eye patch covering his right eye. He was intimidating to look at and even more intimidating to hear. His voice was gravelly and taunting and rubbed harshly against Rukia's skin—like sandpaper. She felt chills run up her spine and had to shake them off before she took another look at him.

The man came up a bit and moved to stand near Rukia, she barely came up to his chest. "So you're the detective who's taking on our Ichigo."

"More like forced to take him," Rukia answered shortly, no matter what he said she wouldn't be intimidated by him. She smirked a bit and crossed her arms, her eyes traveling across the room and glaring at a couple people brave enough to look her in the eye. Hey, Renji was right… they _did _stop looking.

The large man smiled and chuckled darkly, "Yeah… Aizen said you were a pistol."

"And I'm fully loaded," she remarked, the slight threat not lost on her new boss. "Just so you know."

The man snorted, "I know… I know…" he raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, "Just don't shoot anyone and we'll be fine." He held out his hand, "I'm the Lou here, Zaraki Kenpachi."

Rukia took his gigantic proffered hand and nodded, "I've heard you're a hard ass, a good Lou, but still a hard ass."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Kenpachi commented dryly.

"You should," Ichigo interjected, "Because I have more colorful adjectives to use if you want."

Kenpachi smirked, "Ah, you two are already making quips together," he pressed a man hand to his chest and shook his head, "Breaks my heart of hearts."

Rukia turned and stared at Ichigo with a horrified expression before she twisted back to his boss. Both of them were ready to make up some sort of insult to throw at each other, or punch each other in the face, or pull out their guns and shoot each other—all in the name of reputation—when Ishida appeared beside them.

"Excuse me," he began curtly, he was standing beside Rukia now and inclining his head towards the lieutenant. "Where's my body?"

Kenpachi blinked, "Excuse me?"

"My body?" Ishida persisted, "Where is it?"

Kenpachi grinned evilly, "To the best of my knowledge the scraggly thing is standing right in front of me." He snorted and chuckled at his own joke.

"I don't mean my body," Ishida growled, obviously annoyed that he had to explain this twice, "I mean the dead body, the one that was mistakenly brought to the three one when it was supposed to go to the two eight. Yumichika Ayasegawa! _That_ body!"

"Oh," Kenpachi said, Rukia could tell he was sounding confused even though all he wanted to do was laugh, "He's probably down in the M.E.'s lab with Orihime."

"Orihime? Who's Orihime?" Ishida raged, "And why the hell does she have my body?"

"Ishida!" Rukia snapped, turning to him and giving him an exasperated look, "Go down to the woman's office and talk to her, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding my ass," Ishida spat, turning on his heels and storming in the direction of the M.E.'s office, "I'll show _her _a 'misunderstanding.'"

Rukia watched as he disappeared down the hall and in the direction of—what she assumed was—this Orihime person's office. She cocked her head to the side, had Ishida been here before? How did he know which way to go?

"He's going the wrong way," Kenpachi muttered, "The boy's so angry he doesn't even know where he's going."

The lieutenant and the detectives watched in amusement as Ishida reemerged from the misleading hallway and took off in another. _Men_, Rukia thought ruefully, _too damn proud to ask for directions_.

Rukia snorted and turned to Lieutenant Kenpachi, he was glancing around the room staring down anyone he wanted… he seemed to be picking someone terrorize next. When it was clear Kenpachi's train of thought was elsewhere, Rukia glanced at Ichigo. "So," she asked, almost bored, "What do we do now?"

Ichigo shrugged and pointed to the right, Ishida was stiff huffing around and looking for the M.E.'s office, "Let's take your friend to the M.E.'s office and see if there's anything else on the body."

Rukia sighed heavily and nodded, "I'll go but he's definitely not my friend." She rolled her eyes, "I think he's a schizoid."

Ichigo silently agreed… even though he would never tell Rukia that himself. God, if she knew that he was actually _agreeing_ with her… there would be no end to her taunting.

He cocked his head to the side and indicated the way to the M.E.'s office. Rukia called to Ishida and he came immediately to her side, mumbling about how he had known the way the entire time, he was just waiting for them to finish talking. Ichigo led them to an empty stairwell and went down first. Rukia followed next, reveling in the cool air that hit her face as she went further down into the black hole of dead bodies and medical equipment.

The three entered the room and Ishida immediately surged forward, he pressed through the swinging double doors and set a frown on his pale, scrawny face. "Alright you, give me my body ba… bac… back…?"

Rukia came into the room next and immediately stopped in her tracks. There was Ishida, right in front of her, staring wide-eyed at a pretty red head in the center of the room. She was bending over a body, her mouth covered in a pale blue mask; her eyes were expressive and practically popping out of her head. A second later she had removed her hands from Yumichika's dead body and was standing in front of him.

"Ichigo!" She trilled, her voice slightly muffled by the medical mask. She was talking to him but not taking her eyes off of Ishida, "Who… who are your friends?"

Ichigo entered the room last and nodded at the pretty medical examiner, "Orihime, this is Uuryu Ishida, the medical examiner at the two eight, and this," he nodded towards Rukia and continued distastefully, "Is… Rukia Kuchiki."

"I'm his new partner," she injected coldly, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "You examined my brother."

"Oh!" The girl cried, leaping forward and tearing off the mask, even her smile was pretty. Rukia raised her eyebrows just a bit and let her gaze travel south. Her eyes widened and she coughed embarrassingly. She was certainly… well endowed. "Yes, yes, you're Rukia Kuchiki; it's a pleasure to meet you."

She didn't offer her hand and Rukia didn't take it. Instead, the woman came up to Rukia and smiled hugely. She clasped her hands in front of her and ended up pushing her extremely large breasts upward. Rukia found it hard not to stare but ended up averting her eyes to the floor.

Ichigo coughed slightly and put a hand on Ishida's shoulder, the skinny medical examiner was still staring openly at the voluptuous woman before him. Rukia was pretty sure he was even drooling. "This," Ichigo said, "Is Uuryu Ishida, he's the medical examiner over at the two eight." He looked at Ishida and smirked at the stunned man. "Why don't you tell the nice lady why you're here?"

Ishida gulped and started shaking, "I-I thought… we-well there was a mistake with the—the stuff and they se-sent the body h-here instead of to the t-two eight."

"Oh!" She said, smiling, she turned her attention back to Ishida and batting her eyelashes prettily. "Well then," her lower body swished back and forth and she smiled sweetly at him, "Do you want to come examine him with me?"

The way she said it, Rukia thought—somewhat surprised—made it sound like an invitation to bed. Even Ichigo looked slightly surprised.

Ishida blanched immediately and nodded, coming forward jerkily; Orihime smiled at him and then glanced over at Ichigo. "Did you guys need something?"

"Just wondering if you had examined the body yet," Ichigo answered.

"We'll do it now." Ishida said, smiling goofily like a two year old. Orihime turned and blushed a bit. "Yeah," she chimed in, "We'll get to work on it now."

Rukia nodded, "Okay, let us know if you find out anything unusual."

"Will do," Ishida muttered, staring intently at Orihime's figure.

Rukia turned around and made her way back to the first floor while Ichigo followed close behind.

"So," he said lightly, trying to keep his eyes off of her gently swaying hips. "What do you want to do now?"

"Solve the case," Rukia answered shortly. She emerged from the stairwell and turned on Ichigo. "I want to know what you have so far."

Ichigo sighed and nodded fruitlessly, "Alright, it's over on my desk."

-------

Rukia trembled in the darkness. She was sitting in the darkness of her apartment, shuddering from the cold and wrapped in a soft, wool, blanket. Underneath was her damp skin, unclothed and unashamed. Her hair was cold and plastered to her forehead, little droplets falling into her eyes and onto her nose as time ticked by. She didn't know what time it was. She had no idea.

-------

Her brother was killed with a six hundred year old katana, sliced across the throat and stabbed seventeen times post-mortem. It was suggested that his killer was exceedingly angry with him; the stab wounds were excessive and wild. The killer had lost his temper.

Matsumoto was killed much more effectively. She was running away to escape her attacker and tripped when her heel broke, her ankle twisted inside of her boot and snapped in half, she was prostrate on the ground when the she was shot in the head with a .22 caliber pistol, the bullet was homemade and thus untraceable. She was left to fester for three days.

Yumichika was driving back from her house when someone tapped on the glass—with a latex glove—he stopped, turned his head, and was shot. He was dead before he could even put the car into park; it was a .22 caliber pistol and a homemade bullet lodged into his skull… a bullet put inside of his head, bits of glass from the window piercing his skin, and pieces of his brain dribbling from his head.

Eight more months and they had nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Rukia had gone over file after file after fucking file and she still didn't have a single thing. She and Ichigo had gone to the M.E. and examined every single damn detail they could think to ask. Both of them had gone to the Urahara shop—Rukia had to pretend to go to be Ichigo's girlfriend—and asked about the katana's once again. The strange man had simply shrugged and told them that he'd call if anything came up.

They had scoured The Corner once again, tying to find anything relating to the package Matsumoto was carrying the night she died. She and Ichigo investigated drug dealers, homeless men, and more prostitutes only to come to the conclusion that no one—_no one_—had seen a damn thing.

It was going on eight months now, it was already late September, the case had started in early February, fall was approaching with rapidity and they had nothing.

In their misery and futility, they had had no choice but to inform the media of the serial killings, who, in turn, told the masses. Yet since the release of the information—near the end of June—they had become swamped with tips, leads, and downright bullshit. The three one and the two eight had agreed to release the names of the victims, the way they were killed, and to ask people to send possible tips to either precinct.

Rukia had been against releasing the information from the start, but both Kenpachi and Aizen shook off her protests and released it anyway. They told her it would only help, not hurt. Rukia had merely glowered at them and stalked away, back to her cramped seat at Ichigo's desk.

When the descriptions were released Rukia, and sometimes Ichigo, had followed false lead after false lead after false lead. She had gotten everything from society women calling about suspicious trespassers they thought they might have seen the night of one of the murders to summons from convicts in prison, saying they had _connections _to people who knew people who knew cousins of people who could get them the information they wanted… for a price.

They had received anonymous tips from pay phones telling them things that were either not true or were so stupid no one even bothered to follow up on them. One man called the three one and told Ichigo that a triceratops had slashed the "detective man" with his first horn, stabbed the "lady hooker" through the brain with his second, and drove the third into the "pretty boy's" head. Needless to say Ichigo had found the man and sent him to a free clinic and then to a homeless shelter for the mentally impaired.

Each day—every day—she was still being bombarded by helpful hints that lead to nowhere or crazy hints that she were forced to investigate. Ichigo was nowhere to be found anymore, he would give her the keys to the car, the files she needed, or a spare pen whenever he had one, but nothing more than that.

No matter how fucking hard she looked, she just couldn't seem to find anything. None of the "leads" actually led anywhere. In her opinion they were simply stupid and wasteful hunts.

Only this morning Rukia had gone to her captain to vent her frustrations. She had just recently escaped the three one—she hated that precinct; no one besides Ichigo even spoke to her, and that wasn't even very often. Well, except for the medical examiner Orihime… but she wasn't exactly the down-to-earth type Rukia was _used_ to talking to. Finally, she had gone to her home precinct, where she was met with a rather unpleasant surprise.

Renji was at his desk, as usual, looking comfortably at ease as he rifled through papers and joked around. But it wasn't Renji on which Rukia was focusing, it was the woman directly across from him—in what was supposed to be her desk—a woman Rukia had never seen before. She was a small thing, kind of sickly looking but healthy enough for physical exertion. She had dark hair wrapped in a tiny, lace enclosed, bun propped on the top of her head, a pair of small hands, a warm smile, and a confident set of eyes that didn't seem to suit her that well. She was sitting comfortably in Rukia's old desk, smiling and laughing with Renji in a way that could only be described as _flirtatiously._

Rukia had walked up to her old partner calmly and cocked her head to the side, waiting to be noticed by the red-headed buffoon. While she waited she could clearly see that her old desk was completely taken over. Picture of the same woman—only smaller and with her family—decorated the top, small pens with fuzzy caps and paperweights in the shape of small ducks were scattered around. Deep within herself Rukia felt rage boiling. Yeah, her desk was still there, just all her stuff was somewhere _else_.

"Rukia!" Renji gasped, his eyes bulging at the sight of her. It seemed as if he had turned to stand up and go for coffee when ending up running into her. The fact that he was holding two cups did not pass her by. "W-What are you doing here?" He asked, his cool demeanor slipping away under her chilly stare.

Rukia stared at him, "I work here," she answered icily. "Did you forget or did you just assume that I had gone missing?"

"N-No!" Renji sputtered, his glance turned from his desk to the one across from him before swiveling back towards Rukia. He grinned guiltily and clapped a gigantic hand on her shoulder, "How ya been lately?" He asked with forced friendliness.

Rukia gritted her teeth together; her angry aura expanding until she could swear her vision was turning red. "Well, Renji, let's see…" she took a step forward and felt a slight twinge of pleasure when he stepped back, "My brother has been murdered, my job has been taken, I'm working with a fucking jerk, my old partner seems to have forgotten about me seeing as how he hasn't contacted me in eight months, and I'm working on a case that has no end in sight! How the hell do you think I'm doing Renji?" She took another step towards him, making Renji take another step back, he moved until he tripped and fell into his chair.

"H-Hey, Rukia…" Renji stammered, holding up his hands defensively, "I've been meaning to call and visit but I've just been really busy. Hinamori and I have been working really… really… hard, um, lately."

"I'm sure you have," Rukia snarled nastily before turning on her heel and marching into Aizen's office, not even acknowledging the presence of Momo Hinamori.

Rukia slammed her way into the Lou's office and immediately began huffing.

"… No! Need to… no, find Gin and—Kuchiki! Don't you ever knock?"

Click.

Rukia looked up and immediately put her face in her hands, that was a stupid, stupid, _stupid_ thing to do. No one walked in on Lieutenant Aizen without knocking or being invited. She had learned that in the second week she had been on the job—she had walked in to inform Aizen about a drug bust and he immediately chastised her. She was later put her on desk duty for a month.

She sighed and swallowed heavily, "I—I'm sorry, Lieutenant Aizen, I'm just… can I talk to you?"

Aizen glared at her for a second—a rather evil look she had never seen on him before—sighed, and nodded. He indicated to an open chair and muttered, "Go ahead, sit down."

"Thank you sir," she murmured, feeling obligated to include the formality of 'sir.' She sat and put her elbows on the tops of her knees, curving her body into an arch and letting her face dip to the floor.

"Lieutenant…" she began quietly, trying to sort out what to say. After a moment she raised her head and said, "Sir, this case is going no where."

Aizen's face remained impassive and he set his elbows on his desk, folded his hands in front of his face, and resting his mouth against them. "Oh?" He asked.

"There are no leads," Rukia continued, "No witnesses, no evidence, not even a single scratch, I mean, this guy… this guy was _brilliant_." She sighed and looked at him with pleading eyes. "You know I'm not one to give up sir, but… I just don't see an end to this case." Her eyes traveled back to the door leading out to the precinct. "And now Renji has a new partner that he looks… _really_ comfortable with, I don't seem to have a desk anymore and… and…" she stood up and let out a cry of frustration, it took all her restraint for her not to lash out and kick the chair she had just been seated in. "And I still don't know who fucking killed my brother!" She finished angrily—not to mention loudly.

"Then keep working on it," Aizen answered calmly, chewing lightly on his pinky fingernail.

"But there is _nothing_." Rukia reminded him coldly. "Ichigo and I don't have a single clue!" She paused and glowered evilly, "And Ichigo… unprofessional, unorthodox, and… and… and just unclean! You know, once he put his gun in the face of a twelve year old!"

"A twelve year old?" Aizen asked, slight warning creeping into his voice.

"Well, he was a street hustler and we're pretty sure a pimp… but still!" She raged, "He needs ethics and he just—I honestly don't know why he's considered such a great detective."

Aizen sighed and cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, "Are you here just to vent or do you have a purpose?"

Rukia swallowed harshly at the irritation in his voice. Almost immediately her anger receded and she felt the encroaching hands of shame.

He was right… what was she doing here other than just complaining about her own grievances? Jesus, she thought, bringing up her hand and rubbing the bridge of her nose, the Lou didn't need to hear this… he didn't need to hear any of this…

She needed to run. That's what she needed to do. She needed to put on a pair of running shoes and just _go_, go until there was no energy and no anger and no pain left inside of her. She needed to swim until her lungs could not hold air anymore and took in water instead. She needed to climb to the highest mountaintop and just let go. She needed to… she needed to…

Rukia swallowed with even more difficulty than before and tried to offer her lieutenant a small, sorrowful, nod—which she couldn't even seem to manage. "Sorry chief, I didn't mean to… it's my own business… I'll just—I'll talk to you later."

Aizen didn't try to stop her, even though he did get up from his chair and watch her as she hurried out. No one in the precinct even came to talk to her. She heard Renji calling her name but she didn't care. He was better off with his new partner… Hinamori was the best thing for him now. She couldn't do anything for him. She was out the door in seconds, in her daze she didn't even notice that she caused Nanao Ise—a young street cop with a knack for reading large tomes instead of giving out traffic tickets—to jump out of her way and fall down in the process.

She ran out to the car and immediately climbed into the driver's seat. Her breathing was unsteady and her hands were shaking. It was almost like the day she had seen her brother. But today it seemed worse… so much worse. She had failed him. She had failed him and her friends because she was not able to find who had killed them.

Rukia felt her throat restrict tightly and her eyes burned with unabashed pain.

_Failure._

Hurriedly, she turned on the car, set it in drive, and began the screeching journey back home.

-------

The moment Rukia entered her house she threw herself against the couch and gasped.

Her lungs weren't working properly and she was having so much trouble breathing. Her nose was stopped up and her eyes were burning—but she didn't feel any wetness running down the sides of her face. Her cheeks were bare but for a cold drenching of sweat.

Fumbling inside she hurled herself into her bedroom where she tore off each of her bland shirt, her basic pants, her plain shoes, and her shining badge. She was naked; standing in the center of her impeccable room, the window's open for the world to see. Her chest heaved and she began to gasp for breath—her cheeks still free of any salt. Her throat constricted even further and she doubled over, her body awash with raw sensations of vulnerability and pain.

_Failure._

Stumbling even further she hobbled into her shower and turned the water on until the temperature was equivalent to the coldest streams of a raging river. She stepped inside and felt her skin seize into shivers and goose bumps. But compared to her heated and hurting flesh it was a relief.

The sweat was now coming in droves; she could feel it sticking to her neck and the center of her back. Her heart was throbbing, her stomach was whirling, and now her body was covered with freezing water.

"I—I f-failed you," Rukia gasped as her head rested directly beneath the spigot and water flowed through her hair, hitting her skull and stilling the thoughts inside of her throbbing mind.

Her dry eyes closed and she pressed her head against the marble tiles of the shower, feeling the water as it rode down her face, flowed into any crevice—her eyelids, her lips, her nose, her chin—anywhere it could reach.

Her head rested as her knees shook and her body began to slide down… down… down… until she was kneeling. Her shoulders slumped in the cold liquid and she shuddered—not really feeling the water but feeling the numbness nonetheless. Soon the sensation in her toes, her fingers, her legs, her arms… her entire body was nothing.

It was nothing but it was everything.

Rukia Kuchiki shuddered in the cold.

She was alone.

-------

Ichigo Kurosaki looked at the name, then the address, and frowned. This was most definitely it: Akame Apartments, located on Tokkio Street, on the very boarder of the two eight and the three one.

Ichigo took another glance at the folded piece of paper and silently hoped Ishida was right. A slight pang of guilt plagued Ichigo's gut… he had been working with the woman for almost eight months—eight fucking months of futility and boredom—and he still didn't know where she lived. Ah well, he told himself casually, there was a first time for everything. Well, there was that and the other half of him that believed she lived beneath the earth, in the nether regions of Hell to be exact, but still, that was simply his opinion.

Shrugging, Ichigo sighed and began to move up the steps. Damn witch, that's what she was, she was a witch. Evil and ugly and mean and downright vengeful, he thought as he trekked up the steps.

He had worked with the woman for almost a year and yet each day he tried desperately to get away from her. But that, he admitted to himself, was the easy part. He had always been a good liar, especially when he lied to deceive people. He would always make up stories about needing to go see informants related to the case at hand or check out a tip someone had left at the precinct when in reality he would just go out for a burger and fries or even to the gym.

Personally, Ichigo prided himself on his cunning. It made him deviously able to tell her just about any lie he wanted. She was just so _gullible_.

Ichigo smirked, he also hadn't told her that he had been working different cases during the past few months. He wasn't just focusing on the Birthday Basher, who had seemed to have gone underground since his last murder, but was working on good, old fashioned homicides. Rukia had no idea, of course. Christ knew if she found out he wasn't one hundred percent committed to "her brother's case" she would have him impaled on a staff and drained of blood.

He had worked forty other cases in the past couple of months, letting her stew over most of what the Birthday Basher left behind. He knew it might not be the fairest of situations, but hey, he needed something else to do that just let his mind rot on "the case that never ends."

He made his way slowly up the steps; Ishida had said she lived on the third floor so that was where he was going.

Ichigo sighed… Ishida… now _there _was a man with the world at his feet. When he had popped her head into the morgue to ask Orihime if she knew where Rukia lived, she saw the female Medical Examiner in a rather engaging position with the M.E. from the two eight. It would have been disturbing actually, if Ichigo hadn't known Orihime for so long. She and Ishida were apparently having a small snack on the stainless steel examining table while a dead body rested only a few feet away. He even caught them running around the corpse, laughing as they leaned over and kissed each other across the prostate person. Ichigo felt slightly sickened that they would be doing that over a corpse but hey, their prerogative, not his… Ichigo could tell that they were falling in love and he was happy for them. Orihime deserved someone like Ishida and from what he had heard about the skinny medical examiner, he definitely needed someone like Orihime.

Love… twenty percent of him said it was great, wonderful, and joyous… the other eighty percent told him that it was horrible, wretched, and nasty.

Ichigo had to agree with the other eighty.

He sighed heavily as he came to door 312 and knocked lightly. To his surprise, and slight discomfort, the door was open only a crack. Years of police training had taught him that this was not a good sign; deftly, he pulled his gun out of the holster and placed his back against the fixture. Slowly, he pushed his way inside, careful not to make any more noise than was necessary.

"Rukia?" He called softly, his footsteps touching the ground lightly. "Rukia… are you in here?"

He didn't see any disturbances in the room, what he could see in the dark anyway. Nothing was out of place, the carpet was newly vacuumed, and all the chairs were all polished and well kept. Coming forward just a bit he flipped on the light switch. Beige and white—just like her brother's apartment; the only variations were the splashes vibrant colors that came in the form of pillows, paintings, and lamps. But everything—_everything_—was clean and put in its place.

"Rukia?" Ichigo called once again as he slid forward a bit and entered the living room.

That was when he saw her. She was huddled on the couch, wrapped in a woolen blanket, her hair was sopping and her lips were tinged with blue. She was simply staring into space, her eyes not focusing on anything in particular. Ichigo drew in a breath and noticed she was shaking violently, he doubted she even realized.

"Rukia…" he breathed, and was at her side in an instant. He knelt down beside her and felt her cheek—it was ice cold. He furrowed his brow and instantly felt the hand she had peeking out from the blanket, it was freezing as well.

The next thing he knew he had his jacket off of his arms and was draping it over her shoulders. Her eyes didn't move from the spot on the wall. She continued shivering.

Ichigo cursed violently and got up from his knees. He took a breath and bent down to wrap one arm around her back while the other hooked under her knees. He picked her up gently before setting himself on the couch and hugging her to his chest. The next thing he knew he was rocking her back and forth, murmuring soothing words into her crisp hair. He was holding her close, trying to get some of his warmth into her. He saw her tiny feet poking out from the blanket and he reached his hand down, rubbing her toes and pressing his palms to the soles. Christ, she was freezing.

"Come on Rukia," he said softly, rubbing her back and her tiny feet, "Come on… look at me Rukia, look at me."

Her face didn't move but she did begin to respond. Her eyes began to focus on things in the distance and her fingers twitched as they clutched the blanket tighter. He continued rocking her, staring deeply at her face as she began to wake up. Her shivers decreased slightly as he hugged her tighter. His eyes flickered downward and her little feet curled at the toes, they touched each other and Ichigo placed his hand over both of them, patting them until he was able to move his hand up her leg and rubbing her shin gently.

"Christ," Ichigo murmured softly, "You're not dressed." He swallowed thickly but kept rubbing her leg, determined to make her warm again.

"I…Ichigo…" she murmured in a voice so soft he almost didn't hear it.

"I'm right here Rukia," he said in a strong voice, "I'm here… Jesus Rukia, what have you done?"

She swallowed softly and blinked a few times. Her eyes began to focus on things closer to them. She looked at her toes, her fingers, and then turned her head to stare at Ichigo. Her lips—which were slowly returning to a pale pink color—opened slightly, "I was taking a shower."

"Where?" Ichigo asked angrily as he hugged her closer to his chest, "An ice tray?"

"I was thinking…" she murmured as she shifted in his arms, leaning towards him and resting her head on his chest, her cold hair seeped through his shirt and chilled his skin. "That I let them down."

"Let who down Rukia?" He asked softly, all thoughts of irritation left his head and he felt a grip of panic begin to seize him.

"My brother, my friends, my lieutenant… you." she whispered as her cold nose hit the skin directly above the collar of his shirt. He encased the back of her head with his hand and pressed her close. His heart was beating rapidly… to think that he had been so selfish when this case, this obsession, had permeated Rukia's heart, gnawed at her soul and eaten her from the inside out. He swallowed with difficulty and clutched her closer to his chest.

"Rukia…" he breathed, letting his hot breath caress her shivering skull, "Please, you didn't disappoint anyone. We're in this together. You and I. We'll solve this case, we'll find out who murdered your brother and your friends."

Her hands, which had been holding tightly to the blanket, released the scratchy wool and smoothed downward until Ichigo felt them snake around his waist. He gulped dryly as he felt her naked breasts, her nipples still taunt with a chill, press against the center of his clothed chest. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he brought her closer to him. His hot breath was teasing her ear and his hands were rubbing her through the wool blanket.

"Ichigo," she murmured softly as she rested her head against his chest. "Can… can you stay tonight? Please?" Her arms tightened around his waist and her face pressed against his chest until he was beginning to feel short of breath.

"Yes," he whispered softly, running his hand over her hair ever so softly, "I'll stay tonight."

She paused and drew in a deep breath, savoring his subtle, but strong, scent. "Thank you," she murmured softly before closing her eyes and drifting off into sleep.

Ichigo stayed exactly where he was until he was sure she was completely asleep, it only took a few moments but to Ichigo it felt like years. He held her tightly to him as if she were a breakable vase. Right now, when she was asleep, she was a porcelain doll—his porcelain doll. Her skin was unabashed and smooth, her hair was ebony and fine as silk, her eyes were large and beneath the thin lids he knew that special inky color of violet shined, her nose was small and pert, and her lips… Jesus, her lips… they looked like they were derived from the softness of angel's wings with the pink flesh of fresh skin. He looked hungrily at her lips for a moment and wondered—for just a moment—what they tasted like.


	7. The Lies of Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Hello again, people who read my stuff whom I love dearly, just wanted to tell you a bit about this chapter. Um, from hence forth I kind of made Ichigo a little OOC… okay, maybe a lot, but still, I think it works with the story. After all, he's the one who… well, **_**encourages**_** things more than Rukia. But I talk too much.**

**Chapter 6**

His moment of indecision was brief but _Jesus Christ_! It felt like the apocalypse could have come and gone and he wouldn't have noticed. The hands wrapped around her back had reached up and smoothed a piece of hair from her face—her fucking beautiful face—and had paused only a centimeter away from her lips.

He had come so close to touching them, those preciously soft twin pillows of forbidden desires. _Desires_, Ichigo's mind was raging, _when did I start thinking about 'desire?' And with Rukia, no less?_ There was no desire here, he was not thinking about desire, it was spontaneous, it was cantankerous, it was just so… unreasonable.

His fingers retracted into a fist and he swallowed laboriously. After a few more moments of staring at her, he realized that he had more than just a naked woman asleep on his lap to deal with—it was what was _inside _his lap that was making him truly nervous. He felt the throbbing realization and immediately wrapped his arms around Rukia, determined to get her off of him before she woke up and started screaming…

…Or moaning.

Ichigo's eyes flashed and his mind began to take wild turns… yes… he knew he could make her moan… or scream if he wanted to. Her moaning would drown out any other sound in his ears and he would be panting and breathing hard and—

He shook his head furiously and stood from the couch. Rukia was so light it didn't take much effort to move her. He stepped over a few articles on the floor—crime scene photos, possible tips, and M.E.'s reports—and carried her near the room he guessed was hers.

Ichigo paused as he stood over the pictures. His gaze lingered on the stuff on the floor and he grimaced. If he had known how much it was tearing her up…

Guilt. That was what he was feeling… it was guilt. His heart was sinking into his chest just thinking about it. Everything in this case was so important to her, she was working tirelessly to solve it and he… he was just dillydallying around waiting for her to either solve it or give up. He looked down on her and grimaced at her closed eyes and peaceful expression. What he hadn't been waiting for was a total breakdown.

He pushed open the door to her room and immediately noticed her immaculately clean chamber. A dark and modern bed in the center of his room, a vanity to the right, a dresser to the left, a door leading to a bathroom, and a closet. He saw nothing unnecessary except for a picture of her brother—alive—with his arm around the woman he knew to be her sister. He had seen that picture before, in Byakuya Kuchiki's own apartment in his photo album. Apparently they were a family sparse on photography.

He set her down gently on the bed. She muttered a little in her sleep and frowned a bit. Ichigo's attention was drawn to her face once again. He stood above her and stared down at her wonderful features… She really was beautiful…

…When she was asleep and not snarling at him. Not that he'd ever tell her that… but still. He could still admire her from here, a safe distance away from her naked body and sensuous lips.

Ichigo's roaming eyes smoothed downward and noticed the woolen blanket she used to cover her now-warmed body was slipping off of her skin. It pooled near her breasts but covered anything that was short of obscene. The pearly skin of her arms, collar, and the tops of her white mounds. The blanket covered everything down to the middle of her thighs where her thinly curved legs, shapely ankles, and pink little toes were exposed. He could see the inside of her thigh and even tiny tendrils of black hair extending to rest calmly against the skin.

Ichigo's eyes burned into her skin as they swept up and down her body. He could feel his erection pressing against his pants and he hastily swallowed the lump inside of his throat.

Stay… he remembered, she had asked him to stay… so he would. Once she was fully covered, that is.

Ichigo moved to the closet and opened it in order to find some sort of blanket. He found a white fleece covering that would seem to do the job. He came out from the closet and strode over to her; carefully, he placed the off-white cloth over her unknowingly sensual body. The hem tickled her nose lightly and she wiggled her nostrils, he placed his knee on the bed and reached forward, pulling the blanket down. He smiled softly—a gesture rather unknown on him—at her little face and finally did what he had wanted to do since he brought her into the room. He reached his hand out and gently caressed her cheek. The skin was smooth as glass under his calloused fingers. Ichigo drew in a shuddering breath and immediately blinked away his initial surge of desire. _It will pass_, he told himself, _it will most definitely pass… you hate her right? It will pass._

She smiled at him as she slept and blearily opened an eye; it glanced around the room for a moment before landing on him. She poked her chin out from under the blanket and murmured one single word that made his insides shrivel and his mouth go dry.

"Stay." She whispered.

Ichigo was beside her in less than a second. He situated himself on the bed and pulled her towards him without another thought. His arms wrapped around her back and he pressed her against his chest, thankful that she could not feel his rather persistent erection nudging through the blankets. But he would deal with that later. He wouldn't leave her tonight… even if she was technically naked underneath those two scraps of cloth.

He brought her close; close enough that he could swear he felt the gentle beating of her heart. Her face was fitted snugly against his chest while her hands rested against his pectorals. She sighed and breathed in his scent.

Comfortably, she went to sleep.

Throbbing painfully down below, Ichigo stayed wide away.

-------

"See ya later Nanao!" Isane chided coyly as she elbowed her friend out the door. "Don't keep him waiting." The woman with the lightly purple colored hair winked and giggled as she twirled a lone braid along her finger.

Nanao shook her head, "I'm not keeping anyone waiting, you don't know what you're talking about. _I'm_ going home."

Isane shrugged, clearly not believing a word she said, "Sure, whatever."

Nanao nodded and clipped smartly, "Good." She turned around to leave when she heard Isane giggle. She turned sharply and glowered, "What is it now?"

Isane grinned toothily, "Come on; don't think I didn't notice the fact that you're wearing the same clothes today as you wore yesterday."

Nanao blanched and felt her jaw drop as far as the muscles would let her, quickly, she looked down at herself and realized that indeed, she was wearing the same clothes she had worn yesterday—granted they were more wrinkled and definitely dirtier but they were still recognizable. How could she have missed it? She swallowed and looked warily up at Isane, whose smile was larger than ever before.

"So, is it that guy from—from that big ad agency over in the west side?" Isane asked happily, "What's his name… um… Koroku?"

Nanao shook her head and pulled out the chair from her desk, if she was going to be late she might as well have a good talk with her girl friend. "His name is Shunsui Kyōraku and yes, he does work at that ad agency."

Isane leaned forward and wiggled her eyebrows, "Do you love him?"

Nanao blushed and blinked; trust Isane to get right to the point. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "But I really like him." She scooted forward and nodded to a bag she was holding in her hand. "He's taking me to a really nice restaurant tonight."

"Which one?" Her friend giggled.

Nanao's blush deepened and she licked her lips, as if tasting the food already, "La Fleur."

Isane's jaw dropped almost as far as Nanao's had, her eyes widened as well and she scooted forward, so her nose was almost touching her friends'. "Get. Out!"

Nanao shook her head excitedly. "No! I'm serious! He really is!"

"But it takes two years to get a reservation there!" Isane declared, "How did he get it? I need to know." She demanded.

Nanao shrugged, "I seriously don't know how he did it." She grinned widely, "But he did!" She jiggled her legs up and down in an excited and jittery dance. In exuberance she jumped up and twirled around, her glasses glinting in the fluorescent lights. She sighed and sat back down with a smile, "But Isane… I think he might just be _the one_!"

"Ooooh!" Isane cried, making the three other people—the only ones left in the precinct—glance annoyingly at them. She jumped up and hugged Nanao tightly. "I'm so happy for you Nanao!"

"I just can't believe it!" She replied, she released herself from the lethal hug and took in a shuddering breath. "I think…" she said slowly, "That he might be taking me there to propose."

Isane's eyes widened even more—by now they resembled dinner plates—and she placed a hand over her mouth. "What will you say?" She breathed.

Nanao wiped a stray tear from her eye and swallowed, "I'm going to say yes! If he asks, that is. I mean, we've been seeing each other for a while now and I really think he might do it."

She raised her hand again and wiped away another tear, Isane—who was beginning to tear up herself—sniffled and asked, "When are your reservations?"

"Eight thirty," Nanao said matter-o-factly. She raised her watch to her face and gasped. "Oh Christ! I need to get going!" She gave Isane a friendly kiss on the cheek and grinned, "Wish me luck!" She cried as she ran towards the door.

"Good luck!" Isane cried, "And happy you-know-what!"

Nanao was already out the door.

She wouldn't make it to dinner.

-------

Ichigo woke from a rather startling dream.

He dreamed he had gone to Rukia's apartment to find her naked, except for a blanket around her body. She had been freezing cold and doused with icy water. He went to her and began to cradle her, anything to get the warmth flowing back into her face and her veins. She told him about how she had failed everyone in her search for a killer; he had felt his own guilt for abandoning the case to her. His heart had twanged at the thought of making her take the responsibility of three deaths—one of them her own brother—onto her own shoulders. He dreamed he cradled her and felt her hands wrap around his waist at her naked breasts pressed against his chest. He dreamed that she asked him to stay and he did, lying right next to her as he held her close and tried to control his desires.

That was all a dream of course… until he woke up from his unsettling sleep and realized it was real. All of it.

When he opened his eyes at near five in the morning the first thing he saw was the top of Rukia Kuchiki's forehead. He had to blink the sleep completely out of his eyes before he could comprehend exactly what he was seeing.

But there it was, her beautiful and creamy skin resting right before him. And her wonderful hair, mussed from sleep, brushing against his face. Her eyes were closed peacefully in sleep and not open and staring into nothingness, like they had been last night. And to his surprise he was relieved at their shut serenity, and those eyelashes… how had he not noticed how long and black they were? Her tiny nose was flaring slightly as her own dreams progressed. Then there was her mouth—Jesus Christ her mouth!—it looked so silky and lovely and looked so fucking edible! Her body was pressed against his and he could feel the tiny hills of her breasts pressing against his chest. He could feel one of her legs, still entangled in the blankets, draped across the backs of his legs. The blankets had slid down a bit and now her back was bare, her buttocks barely covered by the bone colored sheet. Her own skin nearly blended in with the whiteness of the coverlet.

Ichigo swallowed heavily and raised his locked hands from around her waist. The one underneath her he did not move but the one on top… that one he arranged so he could slide it down the smooth skin of her arms. She stirred but did not awaken. Emboldened by her response he pattered his fingers over her back. He could feel the planes of her shoulder blades and the bumps of her spine. God it felt so _right _to touch her right now, even if she was semi-unconscious.

Granted, he would have loved to have to actively participating in his exploration of her body… but he doubted that would ever happen.

His hand flattened on the center of her back and pressed down just a bit, only enough to give her a tiny jolt. Some of him wanted her to wake up… but only because he wanted to see her slowly open her eyes and shake away the sleep from her pliant body.

His plan worked and not a moment later her brow furrowed and she slowly began to raise the lids of her perfect eyes. She opened them slightly before taking in a deep breath and truly focusing. He watched her in amusement as she saw him, frowned, blinked rapidly, widened her eyes to their maximum, and instantly recoiled in his arms. She gave a startled gasp when a firm hand on her back pressed her forward, melting her into Ichigo's rock-hard chest. Her eyes gleaned with a panicked expression and she pressed her hands to his pectorals—good God, when had her hands gotten there? She tried to slide away but only a moment later she realized she was naked.

Her eyes widened imperceptibly and her mouth gaped open, before Ichigo could say a word she was screeching.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" She cried, her heart beating hard in her throat.

After a moment of silence, Ichigo's grin turned dark and devilish. _To lie or not to lie_, he thought as he stared at her deer-in-the-headlight eyes. On one hand, he could describe in graphic detail what he would—now—like to do to her and make her believe it truly happened… or he could be the good guy and tell her the truth. If he told a lie she might find out and castrate him, if he told the truth… well, what fun would there be in that?

In the end morality won out again… damn it. "_I_ didn't do anything to you last night." Ichigo said clearly. "In fact, the only thing I did last night was help you."

"Help me?" Rukia squeaked, attempting to clutch the blanket up to her neck but hitting a snag when she realized the blanket was trapped underneath Ichigo's body. "Having sex with me is supposed to help me?"

"I didn't say we had sex," Ichigo injected, his anger rising slightly.

Rukia gulped slowly, "Th-then what did we _do_?" She pulled away from his hands just a bit but shuddered when she realized he wasn't letting go.

"Well," Ichigo murmured, inching his face just a bit forward—he was personally enjoying making her squirm, "You weren't at the office all day so I decided to make a little house call." His tone became more serious as he began to move his thumb over the skin on her back. Her breath hitched fractionally and he perceptibly caught the sight of goose bumps rising on her arms. "When I came to your door I saw it was open."

Rukia stopped squirming and looked up into his face, recognition seizing on her features.

"I came in and saw you on the couch, you were dripping wet, freezing, and naked—except for a blanket you had draped over yourself."

Rukia swallowed lightly and bit her bottom lip, Ichigo had to tell himself not to reach his tongue out and tracing the small depression she was making look so delectable.

"I came up to you and I warmed you up. You told me all about what you were feeling about the Birthday Basher case and asked me to stay with you." He finished slowly, allowing the memories from the previous night to flood into her mind. He saw her eyes fill with understanding—and a bit of horror—as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

He stared at her with inky eyes, "You asked me to… stay with you, so I did." He finished on a light whisper.

She swallowed hard and looked up at him with such vulnerability that the hand on her back went limp. For a moment she didn't try to move away but stayed in his arms, breathing with him, resting with him, and feeling her heart beat along with him.

Then she was gone. She tugged at the blankets surrounding her naked body so they wrapped around her like a toga. Quickly, she jumped out of bed and dashed into her bathroom. Ichigo barely had time to register her disappearance by the time she emerged from the bathroom draped in a terry cloth bathrobe.

She tightened the knot around her waist and stood before Ichigo—who was still lying on the bed. Gingerly, he sat up, his muscles a bit stiff from sleeping in a singular position during the night. He swung his legs over the edges of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. _Now comes the onslaught,_ he thought bitterly.

Rukia began to pace in front of him, her eyes blinking rapidly and her hair shaking before her face. She was muttering to herself and sighing repeatedly. Ichigo watched her as she debated with the inner demons resting inside of her. He couldn't hear what she was saying but he could see her: her hand would frequently cover her pattering chest, her neck was blushing red, her mouth was quivering slightly, and her eyes opened and shut as quickly as a hummingbird. She was panicking and they both knew it.

She pursed her lips together and brought her clasped hands before her perfect mouth. "Okay," she began seriously, "This is what we need to do…" She continued pacing and muttering, after a while longer she came towards him and stood so her breasts were in perfect line with his eyes.

Ichigo swallowed thickly, if he just leaned forward only a bit, wrapped his arms around her waist, parted the folds of that bathrobe, and pulled one taunt nipple inside of his mouth… then she would be his.

Rukia looked down at his face and Ichigo looked up. Her lips were pale and pursed into a thin line. Her expression was severe and controlled but to him she couldn't have looked more edible.

She drew in a breath and nodded, conviction in her voice and her gaze, "We never talk about this again."

Ichigo felt his eyes blink involuntarily and he could have sworn that something fell with a deafening _plunk _inside of his stomach. "What?" He asked as she stared him down. "Never talk about what?"

Rukia glared at him, "You know what."

"But nothing happened," he told her. She opened her mouth to speak but Ichigo cut her off as he rose from the bed and stood in front of her. God, her head barely came to the top of his chin. She backed away from him immediately and ended up hitting her bottom on the edge of her vanity. She still looked panicked but now that there was more than four feet between them her eyes dropped the deer/headlights look.

"I know that," she answered slowly, "But you tell someone that you spent the night here and they put the pieces together on their own." She shrugged, "I don't want to take any chances."

"I know how people think," Ichigo said casually as he took a few steps forward. "The only question is… what do _you_ want them to think?"

Rukia's cheeks blushed heatedly, "I want them to think we hate each other!" She fumed.

"Don't we?" He asked as he took another step towards her, "Don't we hate each other?"

"O-Of course we do!" She choked, her voice sputtering slightly.

"Are you sure?" Ichigo asked, finally coming to stand in front of her. The fuzz of her bathrobe was brushing his jeans, which he hadn't changed out of since he had come to her apartment. Her face was a bright cherry red and her eyes were glistening with anger and something else… she was _flustered_ and _heated_… and he absolutely loved it. Purposefully, he reached his hand up and lightly traced the back of his fingers across the silk of her face, watching her reaction and listening to the hitch in her breathing. Secretly, he knew that goose-bumps were rising on the skin of her arms.

"You sure we hate each other?" He asked coolly as he slid his fingers down her neck, past her fluttering pulse, her collar bone, and then lower. Her eyes widened as his encroaching hand parted the front folds of her bathrobe.

Ichigo swallowed the dry lump in his throat and opened his mouth to try and breathe. He could feel the top of her breast and he knew that if he just sent his hand a little lower he would feel the distended tip of her tiny nipple.

Ichigo saw Rukia's head begin to bob only a bit, as if she was trying to straighten her limping neck. Her breathing was becoming a bit more ragged as Ichigo didn't move his hand from the top of her chest. He could feel her skin and her heartbeat and even a few drops of panicked sweat as they ran down her silky skin.

But he wanted so badly to move his hand down and cup her breast in his palm, brush his thumb over her nipple, and breathe hotly onto her flesh.

He was almost ready to when Rukia jerked away from him, raised her hand, and slapped him across the face.

Ichigo stood, stunned, in the center of her room as she huffed away and slammed the door to the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower," she screamed from the opposite side, "Just be a good little boy and don't _do_ anything."

Ichigo chuckled lightly, the sting from her hand receding gently, "Are you sure you want me to be a good boy?" He asked, his voice on the verge of becoming full-blown laughter. "Or would you rather me come in there and be a bad boy?"

He heard a soap dispenser clatter to the ground and took a moment to revel in her nervousness. He heard a few more movements in the bathroom before the shower turned on and the bathrobe flopped to the floor. She stepped inside and he heard the small curtain close and her sigh at the heat as it swirled around her body.

Ichigo nodded softly and sighed, feeling the tension in his muscles melt away as the morning light fluttered through the windows.

With another sigh he opened the door to her room and exited slowly, checking out the rest of her apartment. There was her bedroom and her bathroom—the room he had just vacated—a kitchen, a living room, an extra bedroom, and another bathroom. It was quite a nice apartment; everything was well stocked and in proper order. He made his way into the kitchen and appreciatively moved his hands across her stainless steel refrigerator, marble countertops, and rather unused oven.

He casually opened the refrigerator and peeked inside. Let's see… orange juice, eggs, and there was also some bread.

Ichigo reached inside and pulled out some of the necessities. If he wanted to make it seemed like they slept together… shouldn't he make her breakfast?

Ichigo got out the eggs and was beginning to scramble them when he heard the phone ring. Mumbling pleasantly, he reached over and picked up the slick, silver, contraption and made sure the shower was still running. Shrugging, he flipped over some of the eggs and placed two slices of toast into the toaster oven before pressing the talk button.

"Yeah?" He asked as he shook the pan and made sure most of the juice was gone.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, Ichigo could hear the sounds of sirens in the back round and even the excited yells of what sounded like police officers. Ichigo cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder and paused for a moment. "Hello?" He asked into the phone, wondering if it was just a crank call.

The person on the other end of the line cleared his throat and asked in a terse voice, "Who is this?"

Ichigo frowned, "Detective Abarai?" He asked coolly.

"That's my name," he snapped rudely, his voice rising with anger, "Who the hell are you?"

Ichigo grinned wickedly, "Why do you want to know?"

"Damn it!" The man screamed, so loudly Ichigo had to take the phone away from his ear. The red-head detective was already angry; Ichigo didn't know why he enjoyed making him so mad, but the effect was so fun to watch—or in his case hear—that it was all he could do not to continue tormenting him.

"Calm down tattoo brain," Ichigo chuckled darkly, "It's Detective Kurosaki."

There was a pause, Ichigo could hear Abarai breathing hotly into the phone. He waited for the man to speak while he sifted the eggs back and forth in the hot pan. The toast popped from the toaster and he reached over to grab it. Renji still hadn't said a word and Ichigo wondered if he should start whistling, just to piss him off a bit more.

"What… the hell… are you doing… in Rukia's… apartment?" He snarled darkly.

If Ichigo could picture him now… he would see Renji Abarai, dressed as he always was—leather jacket, black jeans, bright shirt—holding his cell phone close to his ear, his eyebrows stitched into an angry V shape, his tattoo's throbbing out of his face, his skin blotched and red, and the hand not holding the phone was probably curled into fist at his side.

Maybe just a little angrier… and a little more jealous.

"Can't you guess?" Ichigo asked, his voice plain but with a suggestiveness neither one of them missed. "I stayed the night."

In the distance he heard the shower go off. He even swore he heard Rukia's tiny footsteps as they hit the ground and pattered—naked—around the bathroom tiles. He heard her drying off and wondered when she'd put her robe back on. He'd better finish this fast before she came out and figured out who he was talking to.

He could hear Renji sputtering into his phone and in his minds-eye he could see his face growing redder and redder and redder.

"_WHAT?_" He screamed into the phone, Ichigo held it arms length away from his ear and chuckled darkly. Oh this was fun…

The door to Rukia's room opened and she walked out, still toweling her hair with a tiny white cloth. She came into the kitchen and stopped as soon as she saw what Ichigo was doing. One hand was wrapped around the handle of a frying pan, wiggling the sizzling eggs, the other hand gripping a phone that was situated an arms length from his ear. Her eyes shifted from one of his hands to the other and then stood blinking confusedly at the small, plastic contraption which—currently—was shouting rather obscene and incomprehensible words.

"What are you doing?" She asked softly, her fingers absently gripping the small towel at her neck. She glared at the phone, "Who's on the phone?"

Ichigo smiled charmingly, "It's your old pal Renji." He held out the phone in her direction. "I think he wants to talk to you."

Rukia's jaw dropped and she hurried forward, her dripping hair curling in various strands—they framed her face nicely and Ichigo wished her could run his fingers through them. She came forward and grabbed the phone from him, cautiously, she pressed it to her ear and then jerked it away when she heard the river of curses flowing from his voice.

She gaped at Ichigo, "What the hell did you say to him?" Her voice was angry and evil and he sighed at its majesty.

He shrugged, "I just told him I spent the night here."

She drew in a gasp of horror and closed her eyes, letting loose a piercing shriek as she placed the phone back to her ear and began shouting. Ichigo listened while he dished the eggs out on to the plates and placed the toast next to it.

"Damn it Renji! It's me, it's Rukia for Christ's sake! Stop yelling okay—no, it's not Ichigo, no—_no_! I won't explain myself to you! No! _NO_! You just shut up, no, shut the fuck up you asshole!"

Ichigo got the juice out of the fridge and began to search for glasses.

"No! I don't have to explain a damn thing to you! No—no, for your information! Wh—of _course_ I'm sure! What the—fuck, of _course_ I'm not making it up! Why would I make it up? Oh, _oh_! You don't know what the _hell_ you're talking about! Oh yeah? Why don't you just go ask _Hinamori_, I'm sure that would clear a few things up! No—oh no, don't you dare try and pin this on me!"

Ichigo found the glasses and filled them.

"I am a grown woman, Renji, I can do whatever the fuck I want and as a matter of fact I can fuck whomever I want! But I didn't fuck _him_ so just _back off_! No! Back off and tell my why the _fuck_ you called me at quarter of six in the morning! No, I won't take this any further… no… I won't hand the phone back to Ichigo! N… no! NO! Alright, you know what? I'm going to hang up and you are going to fucking call me back when you're fucking _calm_! Alright! _Alright?_ I'm hanging up and when you call me back… call me back with your senses in tact! Goodbye!"

Rukia took the phone away from her ear and pushed the 'end' button quickly.

Ichigo smiled at her and held up a glass of orange juice, "Breakfast?"

-------

He should have seen the phone coming. Well, he should have seen it coming at his head at any rate, even if he didn't expect she'd actually throw it at him. Ichigo rubbed the slight bump on his head and let a scowling grin overtake most of his features. Ah well, he hadn't see it, so it really wasn't his fault.

It was hers.

As he steered the car around a couple of expensive-looking foreign cars his eyes occasionally flickered over to the fuming woman sitting beside him. As soon as he had offered her breakfast and she had chucked the phone at him, Renji had called back—not any calmer but he was yelling coherently enough for Rukia's taste.

Ichigo had watched her, as he placed scrambled eggs on his toast and folded it over like a sandwich; she spoke to Renji in anger for a few more moments before becoming deathly quiet and turning to him. Her face had been drained of blood and her eyes were wide in panic. Ichigo immediately stopped stuffing his face with egg and stood slowly, ready for whatever Rukia was going to say.

"You can't be serious," she had whispered into the phone.

Ichigo came to stand near her, his ear vying for the other end of the conversation. He heard Renji mumbling softly, he caught the words: "scene," "dead," and "birthday."

His blood ran cold when he realized what Abarai was telling the woman standing before him. Her eyes met his and in that moment he knew that there had been another murder. He went to the couch and grabbed his coat, slipping his arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar. His attitude was now serious. Gone was the good-natured—and slightly perverted—teasing he had subjected Rukia to only moments before. His heart wasn't twanging at the sight of the tiny woman in a bathrobe anymore, his eyes weren't dancing around her body—thinking of what he could do or say to make her body flush and respond, and he definitely wasn't thinking about her breakfast, now cooling on the smart table in the kitchen.

Rukia was on the phone for only a bit longer. The tiny button made a high-pitched beeping sound before it slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground. Ichigo heard the clatter and looked up from his place on the couch. His gut twisted when he saw her lone figure standing forlornly in the center of her living room. It her hands were shaking involuntarily as they clutched each other. Her face was pale and her lips—which had been so flushed a pink a few moments later—were ashen and shivering.

She turned to him and blinked slowly, Ichigo was almost ready to run to her and carry her back to her room—she looked like she was ready to collapse again. But she cleared her throat, which didn't help her hoarse-sounding voice, and said, "I'm going to get dressed."

Ichigo nodded, "What happened?" His voice was soft; it was almost soothing to his own ears—he hoped it sounded like that to hers.

"Nanao Ise was killed last night." She said softly, she cleared her throat again and continued, "She was on her way to meet her boyfriend at La Fleur when she was shot… once in the back of the head with a .22." She paused and finished, "It was her birthday."

Ichigo nodded slowly and rose from the couch. Slowly he walked towards the immobile woman and placed both hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were on the verge of going blank; he shook her body lightly before she was able to look him in the eye. He jerked his head grimly and murmured, "You go get dressed and then we'll go to the scene."

Rukia snorted, "You're going to report me to Kenpachi when we get there, aren't you?"

Ichigo shook his head, "I'm not."

She frowned at him, "Why not?"

The detective sighed and he rubbed his thumbs along the rough material of her bathrobe. "Because what happened last night was mostly my fault."

Rukia's eyes widened and she jumped away from him. "B-But nothing happened l-last night! We didn't—we didn't _do_ anything!" She sputtered, her face flushing immediately with anger, "You _said _we didn't do anything!"

"We didn't!" Ichigo cried, "I'm talking about what happened before you fell asleep."

Rukia glared at him confusedly, "You mean my… 'meltdown?'" She scoffed, "Not that it was even a meltdown," she paused and glowered as she crossed her arms across her chest. "It was more like my mind taking a sabbatical."

Ichigo snorted, "Well, before your mind went on sabbatical…" he sighed and drew a hand through his tousled orange locks, "Look, I know how hard you've been working on this case and I… well, I haven't."

"Damn right you haven't." Rukia grumbled snottily.

Ichigo gave her a shrewd look, "No, it's not that, its… listen, you've been working on this job so much and I've been… well, kind of moonlighting on other cases."

It took only a moment for Rukia's face to screw into one of disgust and for her to jerk her shoulders out of his grasp. She took a few steps back and twisted her lips into a sardonic glare. He could see her eyes as they darkened with anger and malice. A cold sweat began to ride down the center of his back as she pinned him with her gaze. _Perhaps I shouldn't have told her,_ he mused halfheartedly.

"I knew it," Rukia snarled, she snapped the towel around her neck and turned around, heading for her room. "Bastard."

"Hey!" He called, following her, his temper growing with each step. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry!"

Rukia wheeled around, her eyes livid and hurt, "Don't try to tell me you're sorry! If you were really sorry you would have told me earlier, and besides that, you should have actually helped me on the case we were supposed to be working on!"

She placed her hand on the frame of her door and leaned towards him. Ichigo had to try hard to concentrate on her eyes and not her protruding breasts. "That's what I'm trying to tell you!" He breathed hotly, "I thought the case was a dead-end from the start and I didn't want to work on it so I left it to you!"

Her eyes were shining darkly; Ichigo paused and swallowed as he saw the pain that was hidden deep within them. Her brother, her friend, and her colleague… and he had given up on them whereas she… she…

"You just kept working on it," he began again, his voice no louder than a whisper, "But it began to eat you up from the inside. I didn't mean to do that to you."

He shuffled forward a bit and stuffed his hands into his pockets. When he looked back up at her there was a new determination shining in his eyes. "Rukia," he said sternly, "I'm here to solve this case with you. I will do nothing else until I catch this guy."

He paused and waited for her to say something. She was standing at the threshold of her door, her face radiating hatred and hurt. Her body was stoic and untouchable, it was not the pliable and soft thing he had touched the night before or this morning.

No… last night he had been with Rukia the _Woman_. Right now he was standing with Rukia the _Cop_. The difference was gargantuan.

She blinked twice at him before placing a palm on his chest and shoving him out into the hallway. "You're an ass." She growled as she shut the door with a bang.

He remained where he was, determined to continue their conversation—argument—to the best of his abilities. He just needed to regroup his thoughts and find a plausible explanation as to why he practically gave up on the case. Well, an explanation that didn't get his ass kicked anyway.

He pressed his back against the wall as he stayed near, thoughts of rebuttals and accusations running through his head. Occasionally, on the other side of the door, he could hear the sounds of her dressing.

Ichigo allowed his mind to drift for a moment and wondered if she would wear anything colorful. He would like to see her in stark black with splashes of pink or vibrant reds with pure blues, or even forest greens with amethyst studs. Did she have anything of such vibrancy in her closet? Did she own an outfit that could make her look completely stunning no matter how drab the party was? He wondered if she wore things like that before she became so dead inside. He wondered if deep in her closet, untouched by years of mundane living and torturous job assignments, she had a tiny red dress, one with sequins and spaghetti straps and a hem-line that would make his dead mother roll over in her grave, a dress with a v-neck that displayed her curvaceous breasts and milky skin, a dress that any man would enjoy taking off of her luscious body.

He wondered if she would wear a dress like that and allow him to strip it slowly from her body as he kissed his way down her beautiful skin, touching her, teasing her, pleasuring her… he wondered if she would ever allow him to do that to her.

But as the door to her room opened and Ichigo's eyes finally met the woman he was picturing in a tiny red dress… out stepped Rukia the Cop, bland and colorless. She still looked angry—furious actually—but she straightened the badge at her neck and nodded to him. He glanced down from his position on the wall and made sure he didn't have a hard-on… well, there was a tiny one but it was nothing to worry about.

"Alright," she said stiffly, "Let's go."

**Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed. Especially Laurie Bunter, gokusgirl, yuwa, bludragon89, Crys Chaos, polarissakura, and cactuspd. Merci!**


	8. Questioning the Stars

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Good morrow gentle people. I hope you have had a nice hiatus from my story, because… HERE'S MORE!!! WOOHOO!!! Once again, Ichigo's a bit OOC and Rukia's pretty cold but I like it that way.**

**I also forgot to beg people for reviews in my last chapter, so here's the begging: PLEASE REVIEW!!! I hope you like this chapter, because I do!)**

**Chapter 7**

When they arrived at the crime scene, Renji was there, waiting for them. Ichigo parked near the edge of the street and glanced around the area—it was a rather well known street in the better districts of the city. There were shopping centers, restaurants, and private gyms everywhere. He noticed pedestrians with large shopping bags rubber-necking near the crime scene. Ichigo sighed and opened the door to the car, he didn't like the upper class audience he would have been subjected to, to be honest he would have preferred the silent scrutiny of the slums.

"This is different," Rukia said, "All the other murders have been in dark streets in or near the slums." She paused and looked around, "This is pretty high brow."

"I know," Ichigo grunted, "I just hope we don't have any camera crews coming in soon."

She snorted and turned to glare at him, "But you like attention so much."

He turned to her and smirked, "Only the type that gets me closer to you." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Renji standing nearby, glaring at them from the sidewalk. On impulse, Ichigo reached for Rukia's hand and grabbed it; she started as he brought her palm swiftly to his lips and kissed the soft center.

Rukia withdrew her hand immediately and jerked to the other side of the car. Ichigo saw her face heat interminably and grinned.

"You know, making you blush is fun." He commented smilingly.

Rukia opened the door to the car and glared at him, "You're an ass."

"Only when I want to be," he replied.

"And that's about all the time, isn't it?" She snapped, standing up and shutting the door, she glanced around the crime scene and noticed the red-headed detective standing, glaring, and fuming on the sidewalk. She turned to Ichigo and snarled as he closed his own door. "You son of a bitch," she hissed, "You only did that because Renji was watching!"

Ichigo came to stand beside her and smirked, "You would have wanted me to do it even if he wasn't standing there."

Rukia hit him hard on the arm and he grunted at her strength, "No," She glared softly, "I wouldn't." She walked quickly towards the yellow police tape, leaving Ichigo behind.

He grinned and followed after her, he caught up with her and shrugged, "If you ever change your mind… you know where to find me."

She huffed and continued on. Renji met the two of them near the sidewalk; he gave each of them a deep glower and Ichigo was pleased to see a vein ticking in his forehead. He smirked warmly at the man and casually brushed his arm against Rukia. She didn't notice the gesture but Renji sure as hell did, his teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

"What's going on?" Rukia asked stooping under the yellow tape and continuing on to a few crime scene investigators, Renji and Ichigo followed—Ichigo at a safe distance away from Renji.

"Nanao Ise," Renji boomed, his voice commanded the air around them, "Was shot in the back of the head with a .22 on her way to dinner with her boyfriend."

Rukia nodded and swept her eyes over the scene. "Is Hanataro here?"

"Yeah," Renji said, pointing, "He's over there." He paused and cleared his throat, causing Rukia to turn her head and glance over at her, "The Lou is giving you guys this case," his menacing eyes flicked over to Ichigo, "So I'm going back to the two eight."

She nodded and said, "That's fine," before moving closer to some CSI personnel, Ichigo began to follow her when Renji's voice stopped them both.

"Rukia!" He called.

Exasperated, she turned and planted her hands on her hips, "Yes?" Her irritation at him was growing proportionally.

Renji's eye twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest, "We need to talk." He said muttered quietly. "Soon."

Rukia's eye twitched in response, she set her jaw sturdily and shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about." Her eyes glanced over to Ichigo before she turned away, "Let's go."

Ichigo shifted to the flustered detective and shrugged his shoulders; there was a visible "sorry, sucks to be you" look shining on his face. Detective Abarai wrinkled his nose and shoved his middle finger into the air. Ichigo returned the gesture with a snicker and moved to follow Rukia.

He knew he shouldn't have goaded the Detective, but Christ he just couldn't help it. He knew that Rukia and Renji had been partners for over two years; wouldn't it be only rational that his mind would think that they had been romantically involved? They were both single, attractive, people who apparently had a lot in common, and Renji was just too much of a perfect target. He knew from experience that there was no one more fun to torment than an ex boyfriend.

Come to think of it, the first time he saw them he had even been slightly jealous of how they acted, like they could depend on each other for anything they needed. They pushed each other to be better, to go further and achieve whatever they wanted to achieve. But they didn't act like lovers; there were no hidden caresses or secret kisses, if anything they acted more like… well, brother and sister. He was the protective older brother and she was the tiny ball-busting little sister.

Ichigo followed after her as she came closer to Hanataro, one of the sides of his mouth quirked as he stared at her figure from behind.

And boy was he glad she turned out to be the ball-busting little sister.

"Hanataro," She called to the nervous man as she strode over to him. He was standing near the wall of a skyscraper, scribbling on a sheet of paper. He looked up when he heard his name and smiled softly when he saw who it was.

In the past few months that Rukia had been at the three one she had made friends with the nervous crime scene investigator. She spoke to him as if he was a real person, something that didn't happen very much inside or outside of the three one, he would do just about anything for her if she asked. "She's kind," he would say to anyone who would listen. Most of the people would just brush off the comments and go back to treating Hanataro like dung. Not to mention that anyone who actually _met_ Rukia would say the exact opposite of what the crime scene investigator thought about her.

"Rukia!" He said chirpily, "How are you?"

Rukia offered him a screwed up grimace—was she trying to smile?—and said, "A little better now that I see you Hanataro." She came forward and put a hand on his stooped shoulders. "Please tell me you have something for me."

Her face was so tense, Ichigo wondered if it would break in half if any more pressure was added. Hanataro grinned and her face immediately relaxed, "You're going to be so happy with me…" he said happily.

Ichigo's eyes widened and he jerked his eyebrows up, "You actually have something for us?"

The tiny man glanced at him and nodded, "Our perp wasn't so careful this time, he's getting sloppy."

"What is it Hanataro?" Rukia asked eagerly.

"A footprint," he said clearly, he led them over to an area where—only hours ago—the body of a dead girl had been lying. He crouched down to the ground and the two detectives followed suit. "Right here," he said, pointing down at a small splotch of blood. "Our guy wasn't as careful about where he stepped. From what we can see he shot her here," he pointed a few steps back, "And she fell down directly here. But he stepped in the blood that came out of her head—that and a bit of her brains."

Ichigo wondered if Rukia's stomach was churning.

"But aren't there any witnesses?" She asked, "This is a very public street."

"That's the thing," Hanataro said softly, "I can't figure it out… from what I can see she was shot in that alley over there," Ichigo and Rukia glanced over to it, "She must have been taking a shortcut to dinner when she was popped by the perp."

"Why was she moved post mortem?" Ichigo asked, scratching the slight stubble he had on his chin.

"I don't know that either," Hanataro said, his voice was becoming a little squeakier; apparently his nervousness grew along with the tally of things he _didn't_ know. "But this is what I can tell you: when he moved her he left a partial footprint with her blood. I'll see if I can get the shoe size or make back at the lab. Also, we found something else that was on her clothes." He paused dramatically and grinned at Rukia.

Rukia looked at him expectantly, "And that would be?"

Hanataro grinned, "Cocaine. Your perp had coke on him the night Nanao was killed."

"Great," Ichigo snorted, "We can just go and interview all of the coke dealers in the entirety of the city."

"But Renji and I already did that," Rukia told him, "None of them knew anything."

Ichigo smirked at her, "I was being sarcastic."

She glared at him and turned her head away, Ichigo was pretty sure he could see an angered blush staining her cheeks. Ichigo watched her as she examined the ground a bit more before shrugging and saying. "But I do have connections in the drug dealer ring."

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him, "I knew you were a crack addict."

"You wish," he replied, "I mean I have a C.I."

She shrugged and patted Hanataro on the shoulder, "Thanks so much, you'll call me if you get anything on the shoe, right?"

"Absolutely," Hanataro said, smiling wearily.

Rukia nodded at him once again and turned to Ichigo. "So, what are we doing next?"

"Well," he sighed as he stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, "I'll call my C.I. and see when he can meet us. But until then we can go to the two eight and see the body."

She nodded, "We should also find the boyfriend and ask him if Nanao called him or said anything relating to her murder."

"He's a hot shot in the advertising business," Hanataro chimed in, "He works at Miagiske Advertising but we've heard that he's been at home all day… grieving."

"Alright," Rukia said, taking charge of the situation, "Let's go see the body then we can go visit the boyfriend." She glanced at Ichigo, "How long do you think it will take to get in touch with your C.I.?"

"A few days at the latest," he said, "He's a very busy man."

"I'm sure he is," she spat disgustedly as she turned away and began to walk back to the car.

"Hey," he shrugged, "He's just observing them, getting to know them, he's not actually dealing."

"Still," she answered, "There's nothing worse in the world than someone who sells that stuff."

Ichigo frowned, "A man's gotta make a living in this world."

"And he can get arrested for making that kind of a living," she argued, climbing into the passenger side of the car. "I don't care how bad his circumstances are."

"Now would you be saying that to some crack addicted, working girl that was only put on the street because her stepfather raped her and her mother beat her?" Ichigo asked as he settled himself in the driver's side.

"Okay," she said, "That's different."

"How?" He asked her, "How is it different?"

"That girl had no opportunities." She said, "How did the drug dealer you're investigating grow up?"

"Suburb twenty miles outside the city, rich father, domestic mother… he even went to college." He conceded, "But he did have a rocky childhood."

Rukia bit her lip and shrugged, "I just think that if you have the opportunities you should use them, don't let them go to waste with bogus excuses." Her voice grew softer and she stared out the window at the decorated streets around her. "When you have nothing you need to take every advantage given to you and use it to make something of yourself."

Ichigo remained silent for a few moments; he started the car and pulled out of the crime scene, glancing over at his partner in the process. She was staring out the window, her eyes glazed at the passing scenery; the sky was grey with the onslaught of a coming rain storm.

"You sound like you're talking from experience," he murmured.

She didn't speak for a few minutes, her elbow was resting on the windowsill and her fingers were next to her lips, massaging them gently.

"Foster care," she murmured softly, "Sent from one house to the next. Smart but insubordinate. Too old to be adopted by anyone. Beaten at different houses. Almost raped twice. No family."

Ichigo felt a constriction in his throat, "But you're brother…"

"He was my brother-in-law first," she said softly. "He married my sister, my sister went looking for me, she died, so my brother-in-law found me. I was adopted when I was seventeen."

"Damn." He said softly, riding the car slowly.

"Yeah," she said softly, still staring emptily outside. "And now he's dead."

"It's not your fault." Ichigo told her immediately, turning the car towards the street leading to the two eight.

"I know that," she said quietly, "But it is if I don't solve this case… then it is."

"I beg to differ."

She glanced at him and shook her head, "You can beg all you want, it won't change a thing."

Ichigo smiled at her softly, "You haven't seen the way I beg."

She snorted softly and shook her head, "You know you talk too much right?"

"I'll try to amend that." He said, falling into silence as they continued to drive to the two eight. They arrived at the precinct speedily, traffic having been stalled earlier in light of the recent murder.

When Rukia entered the precinct there was a distinguished hush that met her treading footsteps. All heads turned towards her as she took a few tentative paces inside. The whispers began almost as soon as the door closed behind her. Ichigo heard only clips of what they were saying but he knew from the hard glint in Rukia's eyes that she could hear every word. Murmurs of conspiracy, mutterings of misfortune, and undertones of curses spread through the area like wildfire.

"Don't get close to her," someone beside them whispered, "Whoever comes in contact with her dies."

Ichigo glanced at Rukia and saw her cheeks redden with anger.

"Nanao only bumped her the other day and now she's dead."

"Aren't our birthdays listed in the directory?" One of them whispered, "Why isn't she being taken under investigation?"

"She probably already has… with her partner that is. I'm sure he's investigated her _tons_ of times." The person giggled relentlessly and hid her face in her desk.

Ichigo saw her again and found pure hatred glittering in her eyes. Her cheeks were ruby and her lips were white, she was biting them relentlessly. He sighed and came a bit closer to her as they made their way to the M.E.'s office.

"Don't worry about them," he muttered softly, casting his eyes to the side and glaring at the people in the desks near them. "They don't know what they're talking about."

She snorted, "But they sure as hell will if you don't back up."

He frowned at her but didn't move away. Something in his blood just made him want to irritate her… even if she was exceedingly angry at the moment. Maybe he just needed to tease her until all the anger she had inside of her was directed at him and not at the world. Maybe then she would ignore all the snickers and side glances swirling around them.

The made it to the corridor to the medical examiner's office and finally got out of range of all the whispers, Ichigo was glad for it too.

"Ishida!" She called, opening the door and shoving her way inside, "Ishida, we need the information on the vict—oh sweet Jesus."

She stopped immediately in her tracks and turned her face away, her hand up and facing outward, her fingers splayed to stop any more encroaching visuals.

"What?" Ichigo asked, coming forward just a bit and peering over her shoulder to see what was happening, "What's going o—oh Christ." He mimicked Rukia and set his hand up immediately, his eyes were closed and his shoulders were hitched frigidly. "Put it back, Ishida, put it back."

The two horrified detectives waited while the medical examiners on the floor scurried to put on more clothes than they had previously been wearing. The woman was giggling, saying things about how exciting it was to get caught and how they should try it again soon. The man was huffing and painfully shifting into his pants—which were fitting quite tight around the crotch area.

"What," Ishida began, his breath slightly short, "Do you two want?" He was buttoning his dress shirt and scowling at them. His lab coat was sprawled across an examining table and Orihime was struggling behind it. She seemed to be trying to draw her shirt back over her head and button her pants at the same time.

Rukia lowered her hand slightly but kept her eyes squinting fractionally, Ichigo wondered if they had crossed when she saw the two examiners 'going at it.'

"We actually wanted to see the victim's body. The dead body…" she said, "The _limp_ body that has already gone out of _rigor_."

Ishida looked down the length of his body and flushed slightly. He coughed lightly and finished buttoning his shirt, a blush was now staining his cheeks as he turned to the detectives and muttered, "We haven't gotten to—ah, _examining_, the body yet. She's still in the morgue."

"Oh?" Rukia asked, crossing her arms across her chest, "When were you guys going to get to it?"

Orihime's head popped up from behind the examining table, "Well, we were going to examine it after we, uh, had some fun."

"You call having sex near tons of dead bodies fun?" Ichigo asked dryly.

"It's the most action they're going to see for a very long time." Ishida replied acidly.

Ichigo shrugged in agreement and glanced from Orihime to Ishida, "Just be a bit more… discreet. Okay?"

"Yep!" Orihime giggled, she turned her head to Ichigo and smiled softly, "And don't worry, we'll have the body examined as soon as possible." She winked at Rukia and smiled, shrugging her shoulders cutely in the process.

Rukia nodded and turned quickly on her heel. "Alright, we'll leave you to your… _bodies_." She muttered quietly, snorting suggestively and continuing on her way.

"I'm hanging back a moment," Ichigo called after her.

"Fine, I'm going to talk to Renji." She said, her voice fading as she went slowly down the corridor.

Ichigo waited until he couldn't hear her footsteps before turning around and smiling at the medical examiners in the room. "So, you guys are really hitting it off?"

Ishida's face reddened even more, "None of your business Kurosaki."

"Hey," he said, holding his hands up defensively, "If she's my medical examiner and you guys are going to start shacking up in the morgue I should have a right to know whether or not I need to knock first."

"No…" Orihime sighed, "This was probably a one time thing," she reached her hand over to Ishida's shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. "From now on it will be in the bedroom." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and winked suggestively.

Ishida's face turned beet red as he coughed and reached his hand up, patting her hand gently with his spindly fingers. The look on his face—excepting the extreme blush—was affectionate and tender. Gently, he brought it to his lips and brushed a small kiss over the soft skin, he then flipped it over and pressed another kiss into her palm. She giggled softly and blushed prettily. With a sigh she slid over and nuzzled into his shoulder, holding her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead into his neck.

Ichigo shuddered and almost convulsed at the sight. All this lovey-dovey stuff was sickening. Sighing, he turned away and moved towards the door when Orihime's voice stopped him.

"Hey, Ichigo…" she murmured softly, her hairline still snugly pressed into Ishida's locks. Her eyes were filled with worry and her mouth was quivering slightly. "I heard what they're saying upstairs… about Rukia."

His eyes hardened until they were a glistening with anger. "It's not true… _any_ of it."

She lowered her eyes slightly, "I-I know," she said quietly, "But I just want to know… you're birthday… when is it?"

"You don't need to know," he answered automatically.

"Come on Kurosaki," Ishida clipped, "Just tell her or else she'll worry," he turned to his beau and tapped her lightly on the nose, "Right sweetie?"

Orihime nodded and simpered like a tiny puppy. "That's right," she turned her large eyes on Ichigo, "I really will." Her bottom lip pulled out in a pout.

Ichigo stared at them, utterly disgusted. After a few moments of silence Ishida glared at Ichigo. "Kurosaki…" he said warningly.

"July 15th." He grunted, "It was July 15th. See?" He said exasperatedly, "I'm not dead nor am I dying. Are you two okay now? Christ…"

"Thank you Ichigo," Orihime said cheerfully as she watched the detective stomp out of the M.E.'s office. "Just make sure you watch over Ms. Kuchiki like a hawk."

Something in the tone of her voice made Ichigo stop in his tracks and turn around, his eyes pinning onto them. His voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke, "What do you mean?"

Ishida shrugged and moved to cradle Orihime from behind, "Well, her birthday is January 14th."

Ichigo's eyes bugged slightly, "What did you say? What day?"

Orihime blinked at him prettily, "Rukia's birthday is on January 14th."

For some reason, his breath caught in his throat. "Are you serious?"

Orihime nodded, "Yes, Ishida told me."

"Do you think that whoever killed her brother is going after her too?" Ichigo asked, his throat tightening with each word.

"I don't know," Ishida admitted, "But I do find it extremely lucky that whoever killed Byakuya Kuchiki missed Rukia's birthday by seventeen days."

"It's a full circle," Ichigo murmured, his eyes wandering to the floor and staring absentmindedly as his brain worked furiously, "This guy wants to make a full circle… begin with killing a Kuchiki and end with killing a Kuchiki, both in the month of January, only a few days apart." He frowned, "I wonder if she's already thought of this."

"Well," Ishida said, impatience biting at his voice, "Go and ask her."

"Right," he replied, moving towards the door quickly. When he reached out and put his hand on the knob he turned around and grinned at the medical examiners. "So… do you guys play naughty nurse or something like that?"

Orihime grinned thoughtfully, "Well we prefer—"

"GET OUT KUROSAKI!" Ishida roared, successfully interrupting his girlfriend while managing to throw a scalpel at Ichigo at the same time.

Ichigo ducked the scalpel and heard it clatter to the floor as he laughed his way out of the area. His smile faded as he continued walking down the hallway. His mind was taking dangerously dark turns as he entered the precinct's main room.

Was Rukia the last one the Birthday Basher needed to kill? Was she the one who would fulfill the cycle of the year of terror? Would all the killing end with her death?

"Christ I hope it's not her," he murmured to himself, running an agitated hand through his hair.

He found Rukia near her old desk, speaking in hushed tones with her previous partner. Her back was turned towards him and while she didn't see him approach, Renji did. He glowered at Ichigo and continued his conversation even after Ichigo had situated himself not three feet from Rukia's back.

"Just be careful, okay?" Renji said, his teeth grinding against each other as his eyes occasionally flickered to the rival detective.

"I know how to take care of myself," Rukia assured him, "Plus, you don't have to worry, we're not partners anymore remember?" Her head turned in the general direction of Hinamori, who was actually quite pitifully pretending to work on paperwork. "Besides, you have a new _partner_." Ichigo did not miss the disdainful inflection she put on the ending word.

Hinamori's cheeks stained red and she continued to fumble with her pencil. Renji's manner became darker as he rubbed one of his temples. "I'm not going into that again." He said softly. "Just keep working on the case. And you," he turned on Ichigo, "Keep her safe."

"Huh?" She asked, turning her head and almost hitting it against Ichigo's chest. "Oh, you're here." She sighed at Renji and motioned towards the door. "Come on, we need to see your C.I."

"I need to call him first, and then we need to go see the boyfriend." Ichigo told her, following her retreating body. She pushed her way through the whispers and the remarks, her pace was quick and even Ichigo had trouble keeping up with her.

She burst through the doors and immediately sucked in a deep breath of air. The smells of the city were a comfort to her. The doughnut shop down the street, the hot dog stand on the corner, even the exhaust from the endless amounts of cars passing by—in addition with relentlessly honking of horns and shouting people—it was all a reassurance. It reminded her that a world beyond all the heinous crimes she saw did indeed exist. Life went on as normal in the city. People just ignored the offenses that went on around them. If they didn't acknowledge it then it didn't happen.

But sometimes it made things worse. When people only heard about the bad things they tended to ignore them… there were so many bad things going on in the world—war, famine, genocide… after a while when you see so much horror you just get used to it.

The autumn winds breezed through her hair and rifled the strands back and forth. What she hated most was the double standards. Police officers and detectives were supposed to be the good guys, golden gods swathed in blue, they were supposed to catch the killers and the rapists and the child molesters. But they were never supposed to act unprofessional while doing it. No one was supposed to chase down a suspect with a gun, no one was supposed to act like a criminal in order to catch a criminal, and no one… no one… was supposed to get emotional.

Some days Rukia just wished she could be unprofessional. Some days she wished she could simply throw her gun down, drop to her knees, discard her badge, yank her hair, throw her head back, and scream. Scream for everything. Scream for her brother and her friends, scream for the sister she never knew, for the lover she would never have… just for everything.

She saw that Ichigo was beside her now, speaking to her probably, with a sigh she tuned her ears to listen to him.

"…Birthday."

She blinked at him twice, his orange hair was mussed in the wind, gently blowing into his amber eyes and covering his semi-permanent frown. She had the sudden desire to brush his hair aside and tap him lightly on the nose. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and swallowed softly. She was never to think those things again. She cleared her throat, "What did you say?"

"I asked you the date of your birthday." He repeated, slightly irritated that she wasn't paying attention to him.

"January 14th," she answered automatically, in the back of her mind she tried to remember what she got for her last birthday… hadn't her brother given her a book by Socrates? Renji had gotten her a coffee mug warmer. She remembered the gift with distaste, and to think she had gotten him a book on tattoo removal. She turned her attention back to Ichigo. "Why?"

"I just wanted to know." He said, turning away and flipping out his cell phone.

She blinked twice. "Why?" Her tone darkened and the word more drawn out. When Ichigo didn't speak she growled, "You wanted to know whether or not I was in line to be killed." She paced a few steps forward and stood like a rock in front of him. "I'm right aren't I?"

Ichigo scowled at her as he fiddled with the keypad, "I was just wondering."

Her hand shot out and she punched him in the stomach, her fist making a large indentation on his muscles as he crouched down and tried to breathe. His cell phone clattered to the cement sidewalk and she raised a foot directly over it.

"D-don't!" Ichigo wheezed, gripping his stomach with his hand, his face contorted in pain. "Don't break it!"

"Then tell me now," she demanded, lowering her foot fractionally.

"Alright!" He coughed, finally straightening after being hunched over for so long. "Yes. I wanted to know, but for a good reason."

"And what would that be?" She asked him acidly, "Did you want to surprise me with a present?"

"No!" He yelled, keeping precarious eyes on the cell phone resting under her foot. "I just wanted to know if it was a cycle."

"A cycle?" She asked darkly, "What kind of cycle?"

"Your birthday is only 17 days before your brothers," Ichigo told her, his anger rising inside as he glowered. "He started the year by killing a Kuchiki so maybe the serial killer wants to finish the year by killing a Kuchiki." He held up his hands and glared, "It's just a theory."

Rukia gave him a calculating glare, "Yeah, one that you've already given a lot of thought to…" she lowered her foot just a bit more and tilted her head to the side, "You already knew the date of my birthday… you already knew it."

"Your point?" Ichigo asked stiffly.

Rukia gave him a hard smirk and set her foot on the ground, merely centimeters from his delicate cell phone. "That's great, Kurosaki, that's really great." In a huff she turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. "My own partner doesn't trust me enough not to be murdered. That's just fantastic."

"Hey!" Ichigo called after her, he dove for his cell phone and brushed it off before rushing after her. "It's not like it isn't a possibility."

"You think I haven't thought about it Ichigo?" She cried as she whirled on him, her face angry and set in a fury of flames. "You don't think that I haven't wondered if I'll be driving home from work, walking back from the supermarket, or even visiting my brother's grave when I feel the muzzle of a .22 pressed against my skull?" Her voice was strained as she swallowed with difficulty. "Don't you think I think about that all the time now that everyone I touch or come into contact with is being killed?"

She turned back around and resumed her fevered pace. "I mean, I met with my brother the day he was murdered, I talked to Matsumoto about his death—asking her if she could find out anything and apparently she did but was killed before she could even _tell _me, Yumichika drove me home, and I just _bumped_ into Nanao but she's dead too!"

Ichigo had to struggle to keep up with her; she was just walking so fast… "Who's to know that you're not next?"

"Because," he replied, "My birthday was July 15th."

Rukia turned so swiftly Ichigo never noticed her hand become balled into a fist. He did, however, notice her fist as it pummeled into already tender stomach and made an indentation twice as large.

"You're such an ass," Rukia snarled. Ichigo keened over and began to wheeze painfully. "You just don't get it, you mother fucking asshole. You can't be the least bit sensitive at _any_ time."

She swallowed roughly and ran frustrated fingers through her hair. "You know what… never mind, just never mind." She drew in deep breaths and closed her eyes for a moment. "Just call your C.I. and tell me what he says. You know where I live so just call me or come and get me when it's time. Otherwise I don't want to talk to you."

She resumed her walking/running and was around a corner before Ichigo could blink.

"Rukia!" He wheezed, running after her, "Wait! Wait, damn it!"

He rounded the corner and found her leaning against the wall of the two eight. He felt his gut begin to work a bit more properly as he came up to her. Straightening his spine with difficulty. Her eyes were closed, her head was resting against the brick, her chest was heaving with each breath, and her legs were shaking beneath her. Ichigo wondered how she could be so strong when she looked so fragile.

"Rukia…" he murmured, his voice lower due to the punches she had delivered. "Rukia… don't, don't look like that."

She snorted lightly, "How do you want me to look, Ichigo?" She turned towards him and shook her head. "How in the hell do you want me to look?"

He came closer to her, until he was standing only a foot away, "I want you to look like you still have hope." He said softly.

She shook her head, "Hope." She bent her head and stared at a spot on the ground. "I thought you gave up on that a while ago."

"I did," he said, shifting so his hand was resting on her shoulder. Her clothing felt cold in the breeze and he began to rub his thumb across the fabric. He didn't like it when she was cold—it reminded him of her huddled on the couch, her hair sopping and her skin frigid. He tried not to think of it and said, "I gave up, but you didn't."

"I might as well," her shoulder shrugged but he didn't remove his hand.

"You shouldn't." He said, coming closer to her, "I told you that I was going to help you solve this case and I am." He shook her shoulder gently and waited until she looked back up at him, "Just let me call my C.I."

She nodded and sighed removed her back from the wall. He nodded at her and offered her a half-grin. "Don't go running off," he teased as he dialed, "I probably wouldn't be able to catch you."

"Probably?" She said shortly, "I know you wouldn't be able to catch me."

He quirked an eyebrow and put the phone to his ear, "You want to bet?"

"What are you offering?" She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

He smirked as he listened to the ringing, he was about to speak to his partner when the man on the other end of the line answered, Ichigo held up a "patience finger" and stood to the side. "Chad… hey, it's me. Yeah, we need to meet. When can I see you?" He paused and listened to a deep baritone on the other end. "Sure, yeah… I'll be there… I'm also bringing my new partner. No, she's clean." He gave Rukia a sly look and smirked into the phone, "I'll personally check to make sure she's not bugged. Yeah, cavity search and all… I'll talk to you later man." He flipped the phone shut and shrugged at Rukia's outraged look, "What? I had to make some sort of assurance." He grinned slickly, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Fuck off Kurosaki," she growled, "When did he say he wanted to meet?"

"Tomorrow in the park," he said, "Four in the morning."

"Four in the morning?" Rukia asked, "Why then?"

"Apparently it's the only time he gets off from his _work_." Ichigo muttered, "Except when he sleeps and pals around with the crime bosses lackey's."

"And not the actual crime boss?" She asked. They were walking back towards the car, a meltdown having been avoided; Rukia was beside Ichigo, her head turned towards him expectantly.

"Well, not yet, he still needs to gain a bit more of their trust." Ichigo shrugged. He opened the car door for her and waited until she got in. Leaning against the door frame he grinned wickedly and said, "Now… how about that cavity search?"

-------

Ichigo rubbed his jaw as he sat down on the stylish leather couch, wondering if a bruise would be there in the morning. Rukia had sure as hell punched him hard enough to create one. Grumpily, he made a mental note never to mention cavity searches ever again.

Rukia sat beside him a moment later. He glanced at her and glared softly; she ignored him and turned her attention to the grieving man sitting in front of them.

He looked older, late thirties or early forties, he had wavy black hair that fell handsomely to his shoulders but was pulled back into a small ponytail. He had a scraggly face with a brisk beard, a solid nose and deep, intellectual eyes. Ichigo glanced at him briefly and noticed his swollen nose and puffy eyes. He felt sorry for the guy for a minute and wondered just how he had found out his girlfriend had died. He sure as hell hoped it hadn't been the news.

"Mr. Kyoraku," Rukia said gently, "Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?"

The man before them nodded and sniffed noisily. He cleared his throat and said, "I-It's fine… I just… Christ…" He bent his head and pressed his palms against his forehead.

"I know," Rukia said quietly, she leaned forward a bit, placing her elbows on her knees and sighing sympathetically. "You just keep expecting them to walk through the door."

"Yeah," he said, letting out a gasp of breath, "How do you—"

"My brother was the first to be killed by this whacko," Rukia said quietly. Kyoraku's eyes widened significantly and he clenched his jaw so tightly Ichigo thought it just might break. "But we're here to ask you some questions."

Kyoraku nodded and rubbed his face softly, "Alright. Go ahead."

"How long had you and Nanao Ise been dating?" She said, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

"Eight months," he said, taking out a tissue and blowing his nose. "I was going to p-propose last night."

"It's okay," Rukia said quickly. Ichigo had the distinct feeling that the detective beside him was trying to keep the grieving man on track. He had to agree, the pain was just too fresh for him, they needed to keep his answers focused on their questions, and not on his once-bright future. "Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?"

He shook his head, "No one… everyone loved Nanao."

"Does she have any family?" Ichigo asked, injecting his own question and getting a stern look from Rukia.

Kyoraku swallowed heavily and shook his head, "Don't you mean 'did she have any family?'" He snorted, "No, she didn't. I was the only person she really had. I think she even put me on her medical forms for an emergency contact."

Rukia nodded and tapped her pen against her mouth, "Were there any perps she collared who had it out for her?"

"She never talked about her work in front of me," he said stiffly, "We thought that if we only talked about work… we wouldn't get to know each other very well."

Ichigo nodded and turned to Rukia, "We should probably look through her files, see if anyone was posing any threats to her."

She sighed and looked back to Kyoraku. "Is there anything else you would like to tell us? Anything that might seem pertinent to our case?"

He shook his head slowly but raised his eyes to Rukia and Ichigo, glaring with the full power of his intelligently colored irises. "Just catch this bastard… and give me five minutes alone with him."

Rukia and Ichigo sighed, rose, thanked Kyoraku, promised to catch the perpetrator, and made their way out of the door.

Yet even though they had promised to catch the man who killed Nanao, they were both wondering if it would ever happen.


	9. Last Names First

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affilates.**

**(A/N: Hey guys, another chapter to post. Who really cares about schoolwork[Ah, me? Oh well, can't quash a passion with endless amounts of term papers. ******

**Please, ENJOY and REVIEW!)**

**(Also, pardon the length of the chapter [22 pages!, but at least you do get some, er, **_**action**_** in this one. Enjoy!)**

**Chapter 8**

"It's fucking cold." Ichigo said as he puffed hot air into his hands and jiggled his feet around, trying to block some of the early morning air from seeping into his pants and hitting his skin.

"Stop waving the air towards me," she snapped at him, stuffing her own hands into her pockets. Sure _she_ was smart enough to wear a heavier coat and even a scarf. _He_ was only wearing a windbreaker.

"But I'm _cold_." He whined, staring hungrily at her scarf.

"You summer babies," she scoffed, "Can't stand a bit of cold."

"I need coffee then," he reasoned persistently, "I need some damn coffee to warm me up. I'll take tea even, or cocoa! Fuck… I something warm."

Rukia sighed exasperatedly; she removed her ungloved hands from her pockets and reached up to unravel the scarf from her neck. "Here," she thrust it over to him, "Take it."

Ichigo took a closer look at the scarf for a moment before snorting and turning his head away, "I'm not taking _that_ thing."

She turned to him and frowned, "Why not?"

He gave her a wide-eyed look of amazement, "It's got rabbits on it Rukia, _rabbits_."

"Your point?" She demanded, holding the scarf out a bit more.

"It's bordering on gay," he told her.

"Either you take the scarf or you freeze to death." She told him plainly, "And if you freeze to death I will leave you here in this park, to be eaten by tiny dogs accidentally let loose by their rich owners." She narrowed her eyes and offered her the scarf once more, "Now, do you want it or not?"

Ichigo studied the scarf for one more minute before taking it and wrapping it around his neck. He mumbled the entire time he was going round and round his sinewy column. "You know, if I did pass out from the cold you could always do what they did in _The Saint_."

Rukia turned to him, "The what?"

He shrugged, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into his neck and the scent of her hair travel up to his raw nose, "You know, the movie, _The Saint_."

She shook her head, "I've never seen it."

His eyes widened in fake horror, his hands stuffed mercilessly into his pockets, "You've never seen _The Saint_?"

She shook her head, "I don't watch TV all that much," she looked at him with curiosity, "What do they do? You know, in that movie."

Ichigo smirked and began to dance around slightly, trying to keep the rest of the cold away from him, "Well," he began, "Val Kilmer has to get away from some evil Russians so at one point he has to dive into an icy river and stay underwater for a while so they couldn't spot him."

She blinked at him, "Okay…"

Ichigo sidled closer to her and ended up rubbing his shoulder against hers. She shied away but he followed her jokingly. "Well anyway, his significant other, played by Elisabeth Shue, sees how cold he is and ends up stripping him naked—"

Rukia's eyes widened and she jumped away from Ichigo. He laughed and pursued her on the path. "And then she strips naked, lies down right on top of him, and her body heat warms him up."

"Absolutely not!" Rukia huffed, planting her feet in the ground and causing Ichigo to swerve in order to get out of her way. "Who'd want to see _you_ naked?"

Ichigo chuckled darkly, "More women than you'd like to know." He cocked his head and shrugged, "And some men too."

Rukia gave him a dark look and pointed to a spot on her mouth, indicating he had something on his, "You know you have a bit of ego right here." She tapped the spot on her own face, "Actually, it's coming out in a stream… get rid of it."

"Touchy, touchy, touchy," Ichigo muttered, "Maybe you're just grumpy because you're hungry." He grinned and knocked his elbow against hers. "I'll get you breakfast after this."

"I don't eat much nowadays." Rukia admitted, sighing softly. "I'm not very hungry."

"Then I'll get you coffee after we talk with Chad," he took his hands from his pockets and blew in them lightly. "Christ, where is this guy?"

Rukia gave him a dubious look, "Are you sure he's reliable?"

"Yeah," Ichigo said, "I've known him since high school. We went to the Academy together and stayed partners for a while before he went to narcotics and I became a detective."

"Does he like being in narcotics?" Rukia asked.

"I guess," he shrugged, "But yeah… I guess he likes it."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "He likes _you_, right?"

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, "Of course he does, we've been friends since we were fifteen."

"Then where the fuck is he?" She hissed vehemently.

Gravel crunched near them and their heads whipped in the direction of the noise. Rukia's eyes widened as she stared at the giant coming towards him. He was easily twice her size, his body was lean but muscular and sinew was bulging from his biceps. His hands were stuffed inside of his pockets but she could see how humongous they were. His skin was a lovely shade of brown but not completely black, he looked Mexican but exotic, like he was a stranger to his own land. His head was bent down slightly, wavy hair hiding his uninterested-looking eyes and the bridge of his large nose. His head was also covered by a loose gray jacket, the hood pulled up to give him more of a conspicuous image. To Rukia he looked like a towering, wavy-haired, giant, _thug_.

"Ichigo," even his voice was huge—a deep, round, resonating, baritone that shook through her completely, even though he wasn't talking to her. His eyes shifted from her to her partner and he blinked. There was a long and drawn out silence before he added, "You're wearing a bunny scarf."

Ichigo coughed slightly before he loosened the thing around his neck and muttered, "Yeah, I was cold… I know it's rather stupid."

"Gay is more like it," the man rumbled.

"Hey!" Rukia piped up in defense, not the type of person to have a giant _oaf_ insult one of her scarves, "It's mine and I happen to like it."

The giant shrugged and said, "If you say so."

"I do say so," she clipped acidly.

He shrugged again and looked back at her, "I guess you're Ichigo's new partner."

"Yeah," he said, coming forward and grasping the giant's forearms in a strange handshake, "Her name is Rukia Kuchiki. I was assigned to work with her for this case."

Rukia scoffed, "More like I was assigned to work with you."

"_Whatever_ way you want to put it," he said, shooting her a reproachful glare, "But before we get started, Rukia this is Chad, or Sado if you want his real name, Chad, this is Rukia."

"Good," she gave Ichigo a glare, "Now we have some questions."

A small sigh escaped his mouth and puffed out into white clouds, "We're working together and we wanted to know something. I know you don't have much time so we'll try to be brief."

Chad—or was it Sado?—nodded, "Okay, shoot."

Rukia cleared her throat. "Have you, or anyone you know, sold cocaine to someone who has it out for cops?" She asked pertinently as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a tiny notebook and a pen. She flipped the book open, tapped on the pen, and stared hard at Chad. "Don't leave anything out, it could all be relevant."

Chad looked from Rukia to Ichigo with patient ease, his hair was covering one of his eyes and he was blinking like a confused animal. His gaze finally ended on Ichigo, "Is she for real?"

Rukia was about to protest when Ichigo nodded and said, "Unfortunately," in a dejectedly weary voice.

Her fist was in his stomach before he could blink. He heaved uncomfortably and wheezed as his head fell between his knees.

Chad raised an eyebrow at her and asked in that dull voice of his, "You do that often?"

She shrugged, "Actually this is only the third time… I think." She said, adjusting her shoulders and returning her attentions to the notebook, "Now, continuing, and please, no bullshit. It's too fucking early in the morning."

Chad took one more look at Ichigo's wheezing form before nodding his head and answering, "There's this guy I know, always uptight about authority figures, he buys coke all the time from another guy I know." Rukia scribbled enthusiastically as he continued, "Once, he came to me, already high, and was boasting about how he popped a cop clean in the back of the head."

Rukia raised an eyebrow and poised her pen above the page, "His name?"

"Gin Ichimaru," he answered as he watched Ichigo try to straighten himself, "You should find him at Takameshi Street in the slums, he lives in Eishi Apartments, room number eight."

Rukia wrote all of it down, "Anything else we should know?" She asked him.

Chad nodded, "The guys got about five guns."

Rukia stopped writing and blinked at him, "Were you going to volunteer this information even if I didn't ask?"

He shrugged, "Not if you didn't ask."

She nodded and sighed, "I see… well," she turned to Ichigo and continued to watch him struggle. She stuffed her notebook inside of her pockets, her hands following close suit as she tried to warm them. "Thank you very much Chad… or Sado, whichever you prefer."

"Ichigo calls me Chad," he said in a deep voice, drawing the fiery-haired detective's attention. Ichigo raised his head and continued to rub his stomach. Chad chuckled softly, "Does she always hit that hard?"

Ichigo coughed lightly before shaking his head, "No, it's still early so she's just warming up."

Rukia snorted at him, "You know, I enjoy hitting you," she raised her hand and balled it into a fist, Ichigo instantly recoiled, "It releases pent up anger."

"Well keep your anger to yourself," he spat, turning to Chad and grasping his muscular arm once again. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

The burly undercover cop nodded brusquely and nodded, "Take care yourself," he turned to go and then swiveled back, "And take off that ridiculous scarf."

"Will do, Chad… will do." Ichigo grinned as he watched the giant of a man vanish into the early morning light. For a moment, Rukia was baffled at how such a large person could appear and disappear with the elegance of a hummingbird.

Ichigo grinned as he left and turned his attention back to his partner. She was staring off, watching as Chad slipped away into the mist.

For just a moment, he allowed himself to stare at her in the mornings' dewy gleam. A few droplets of water clung to her hair and her delicate breath puffed out like smoke from a fire lit deep within her belly. She looked beautiful, her purple-grey eyes clouded and heavy with tired determination but alive with expectation and hopes.

Ichigo felt his tight eyebrows slacken slightly before he walked over to his partner; he patted her softly on the back and had the delight to see her eyes shift up to his. They swept his face before glancing down at the scarf he was wearing. Her lips quirked into a smirk and he shrugged, "Let's go get something to eat before we go see this, Gin Ichimaru guy."

Rukia shook her head, "No, I want to see him first."

"Too bad," he said, he wrapped his fist around her bulky forearm, he tugged quickly and jerked her forward, "Because I'm hungry and you also need to eat."

"I do not." She muttered, abjectly disgruntled at being ordered around, and by Kurosaki no less.

Ichigo gave her a slanting look, taking in her slightly hollowed cheekbones, the circles under her eyes, and her sharp chin, he wondered if she even ate more than one meal a day. He looked away and shook his head, his footsteps coming a bit faster and his tugging on her arms a bit more insistent. "I don't care if you want to eat or not, you and I are going to have breakfast."

"Bastard." She muttered.

"Bitch." He replied.

Ignoring each others furious auras Ichigo tugged Rukia while Rukia tried to slow him down. After a few moments of struggling, Rukia gave in and finally decided that eggs and toast sounded good… but only if Ichigo was buying.

-------

Thirty minutes later, Rukia was sitting at a table in a homey diner, a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast before her. In all truth, the smell was scrumptious and she could even see the waves of steam wafting from the deliciously cooked food. She raised her head and looked at Ichigo, trying to control the saliva building up in her mouth. He was already digging into his plate, his utensils working with furious speed. Rukia's eye trailed down to the wonderful food and gulped. He did buy it… he did want her to eat it… it looked so good…

Ichigo paused in his voracious consummation and frowned at her, "Wha arenn yoo eathing?" He asked with his mouth full.

Rukia would have laughed at him if she didn't hate smiling so much.

It took him a moment to finally swallow, but when he did he reached over to her plate and pushed it towards her. "What I meant to say was, why aren't you eating?"

Rukia snorted at him and shook her head, "I told you I'm not all that hungry."

Ichigo took another bite of his toast, "So your eyes are just eating it for you?" He asked sarcastically. She sneered at him but he brushed it aside, "Come on Rukia, I know you're hungry, just eat it."

She narrowed her eyes but picked up her utensils anyway. Her partner smirked at her actions and resumed devouring the food on his plate. The first bite was heavenly, the eggs slipped down her throat like butter and the taste reminded her of how much she missed food. Actual food… not just crackers whenever she thought about eating or an apple when she felt her energy weakening… and coffee, she couldn't forget the coffee. Without coffee… well, there was no life.

Before long the entirety of her plate was decimated, all of the food was gone and Rukia was gulping down her coffee as if it were oxygen.

She placed her cup down on the table and sighed in relief. Christ, how long had it been since her stomach had been this satiated?

"See," Ichigo's voice chided her back to reality; she looked up and saw him grinning tauntingly at her, "I knew you were hungry."

"I wasn't hungry," she told him, trying to sound bitter but knowing she didn't. "I was just in the mood to eat."

"Ah," he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Of course."

"It's true." She told him, motioning for another cup of coffee. The waitress brought her the pot and filled her mug, Rukia was tempted to tell her to leave the entire thing but the plump old woman was gone before she could ask.

Ichigo's eyes followed her as she sipped her coffee again. This time she savored the strong taste and sighed as it slipped down her throat. Her face, for only a moment, slipped from its mask of hardness and settled into serene peace. It was the one she had worn when he saw her sleep. Her face had been devoid of the pain and the pressure that he usually saw.

_I should buy her coffee more often_, he thought casually.

"So I have a question," she said coolly, reaching across the table and picking up a spare piece of toast from his plate, "When did we start on the whole first name basis thing?"

Ichigo shrugged and took the toast back from her, she had made one bite mark into the stiff piece of bread but Ichigo ate it anyway. It was slightly exhilarating to know he was eating something that Rukia's lips had been on, but he suppressed the feeling with a swallow. He shouldn't have been thinking things like that anyway. "I guess… it was when you were in you mini-meltdown." His eyes softened as he said, "You called me Ichigo, so… I guess it was then."

"Oh…" she said, her voice descending in decibels. She grabbed the toast back from him and ripped the rest of the piece in half. She handed one to him and kept one for herself. "Well, don't you think we should call each other by last name still?"

"Why?" He asked, stuffing the rest into her mouth.

"We need proper distance," she said, nibbling on the toast, "The whole first name basis stuff doesn't seem to be working."

Ichigo's eyebrows furrowed, "Why not?"

She shrugged and sipped on her coffee, "Well, don't you want boundaries?"

He felt his fist clench on his thigh, thankfully hidden under the grubby table. However, unbeknownst to Rukia, his temper was also starting to boil. "What makes you think I want boundaries?" He asked quietly.

She blinked at him softly and shifted back in her seat. If Ichigo didn't know any better, he could swear he felt some sort of fear coming from her… was it fear, or was he just imagining it? It was a spark of something, he knew that, whether it was fear or insecurity or even anxiety he didn't know. He just knew it was… something…

Ichigo dug into his pocket and pulled out a bill, Rukia's eyes followed his hand as he slapped it down on the table and motioned towards the door, "Let's go." His voice was terse and his fists were flexing as if irritated by something. "We want to get the drug dealers before they're all up and doing their usual business."

Rukia frowned but nodded as she looked at her wristwatch; according to the silver hands on the face it was only six thirty in the morning. Sighing at her painfully obvious lack of sleep she glanced up and noticed that the door was already swinging with Ichigo's departure. Rukia cursed and quickly followed after him, stinging her tender knees in the process. She came out of the diner, hobbling slightly but determined not to let any of her aches show.

Ichigo was already in the car by the time she was even able to open the door. She yanked the thing open and slid into the seat beside him, huffing in flustered annoyance.

She didn't even bother to ask him what was wrong, Jesus knew he always had something wrong with him… he was always moody and angry and frowning and… and…

He turned on the car and began to drive to the place Chad had told them about.

"Whatever," she muttered softly, buckling her seat belt before Ichigo wrapped the car around a pole.

-------

"Make sure you park a bit away from the slums," Rukia told him as they neared the decrepit neighborhood, "There's a ninety three percent chance that someone will boost your tires if you leave it near here."

"I know," Ichigo answered tersely, pulling into a space about three blocks away from where the slums began, "I've been doing this almost as long as you have."

"I just wanted to make sure," she replied, her temper rising. She unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open, mentally preparing herself for the trip she was about to take. She hadn't been to the slums since her fateful conversation with Matsumoto, and her skin still crawled at the mere mention of The Corner. For a fleeting moment, her mind wandered back to the night she had learned about Matsumoto's death. She had gone to see Susame and learned about the package the undercover cop had been carrying to her. That package that ended up putting a bullet in her skull.

Rukia inadvertently shuddered, trying to block out the memories of that day—not to mention being subsequently blamed for the woman's death. She pushed the thoughts aside, desperately trying to forget the past. She gave a sidelong glance at Ichigo and wondered if he saw how shaken she was—not that she would ever admit she was shaken, to him or to herself, but it would help if he didn't mention it.

"We're looking for Takameshi Street?" She clarified, clearing her throat and trying to sound like she meant business. "Eishi Apartments." Just to be sure she pulled out her notebook and checked the names written in her perfect cursive. She nodded to herself and put it back. She could do this.

Ichigo set a brisk pace and Rukia almost had to jog to keep up with his powerful strides, but no matter how quickly he walked she did have to admit that he got them into the very heart of the slums in only a matter of minutes.

Rukia checked her sidearm unconsciously; she needed to make sure that it was ready for use in case she needed it. Her eyes traveled down as she and Ichigo passed by a homeless man wearing filthy clothes and a murderous expression. With a small swallow, Rukia loosened the hold on the holster just a tad.

"Stand close," Ichigo muttered, shifting a little closer to her in the process as they continued walking.

She wasn't afraid though. She knew she wasn't. She hadn't been afraid of these people in a very long time. Growing up as an orphan in the foster system changed all of that. Hell, she would have loved to feel fear every now and again, but to her it was considered a luxury. Just like all the other emotions _normal _people were supposed to have.

Most of the street signs were broken or missing so Ichigo and Rukia had to do their best to find where they were going without general direction—not to mention zero help from any of the natives. None of them spoke as the two cleanest members of the streets walked past; conversations were stopped and horrendous stares were given.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of fruitless wandering, Rukia and Ichigo finally managed to find Takameshi Street _and_ Eishi Apartments. Rukia stood before the doors for a moment while Ichigo circled the building, checking to see if they needed to be wary of anything in particular; Rukia had to admit, though, that the only thing she probably needed to look out for was this decrepit building. It looked as if it had been subjected to three earthquakes, a flood or two, and numerous fires, all of which had busted every window, destroyed every fire escape, and no doubt killed each set of stairs. If she and Ichigo had anything to be worried about, it was not the murderers who most likely lived inside of this building, but rather getting an infection from a jagged and unexpected piece of glass, or inhaling dangerous fumes, or even falling down two stories due to the termite ridden floors.

Ichigo came back from around the store, "Everything is fine," he said and she nodded. Together, with Rukia in the lead, they entered the crumbling building, watching their steps as they went along.

Rats scurried out of their way and bats screeched in the molding rafters. Rukia heard the volume of the noise and felt a shiver rise up her spine. It sounded like nails on a chalk board.

"Here it is," Ichigo whispered as they stopped in front of door number eight. Rukia glanced up and realized he was right, sheepishly, she noticed she had been looking at the ground and not at the numerical gates. She slipped her hand inside of her coat and pulled on the butt of her gun, propping it in front of her face. Ichigo reached his hand inside of his jacket and pulled out his gun as well. Rukia mimicked his movements and nodded to him, gently, he rapped on the door.

There was no movement inside the apartment so Ichigo knocked again, louder this time. Both of them heard a grumble inside of the room and a man calling.

Rukia couldn't tell what he was saying so she took matters into her own hands, "Mr. Ichimaru? This is the police. Open the door."

Another grumble, this time it sounded like, "Whaaaat?"

"The police, Mr. Ichimaru," Ichigo called clearly, "We need to talk to you."

A stumbling sound came from inside, Ichigo and Rukia tensed as the door swung open and a man appeared at the doorway. The moment Rukia saw him she felt like ice had just been poured into her veins.

Rukia had seen her share of dazed and crazed men before, but the sight of this man chilled her bones until she felt frozen in place. His hair was an astonishing shade of ash-grey—it looked lifeless and dull—his skin was a translucent shade of white, and his eyes were slanted into a queer stare. But his mouth… his mouth was what scared her the most. It curled up and up into a thin line ending only when it was horizontal to his ears.

A shiver ran through her frame as the man—Gin Ichimaru if they were correct—shifted his eyes from one detective to the next and grinned when his gaze landed on Rukia. He looked like a ferociously wicked animal, one that didn't have any qualms about eating a mother in front of a cub. His image was simply frightening.

Rukia scooted a bit closer to Ichigo, her coat brushing his and sending strange shots of comfort through her veins. She needed to feel him beside her… for some reason.

"Yo," he drawled in a twanging accent, his eyes glued to Rukia, "What are you two doing here?"

Rukia opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Looking for you," Ichigo supplied, his glance darting from his partner to their suspect. Rukia pursed her lips together and wondered if he could see how shaken by this man she was; Christ she hoped not.

Ichimaru leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling to the full extent of his wicked-looking lips. "Really?" He cooed, "Why?"

"We want to ask you some questions," Ichigo answered, just as casually. Rukia swallowed and tried to take in a deep breath.

She blinked and chuckled darkly as a smirk crossed her face. "Are you enjoying yourself today, Mr. Ichimaru?"

He nodded at her and grinned, "Yeah…" his sentence ended on a long and slick drawl, meanwhile, Rukia reached behind her and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Really," she asked as she twisted his arms behind his back and hooked the cuffs tightly to his wrists. "Does it have anything to do with that marijuana I smell?"

Ichimaru grunted at the feeling of the metal clamping around him. "Ah, come on, don't play me like that."

Ichigo gave Rukia an appreciative nod and grasped the man's other arm, together, they led him gingerly down the decrepit stairs.

"Man," Ichimaru whined, "Y'all can't do this to me!"

"Exigent circumstances dirt-bag," Rukia told him. They began to walk through the streets, Ichimaru in between them, cuffed like a prized bull. People gave them killing looks and a few times Rukia thought she saw knives being flashed at them. She had to shake the thoughts of a stabbed body from her mind and continued, "Marijuana is still illegal, and you're in possession with probable intent to distribute."

"But I'm not gonna distribute!" He whined as they neared the car and pushed him into the back. "I just like the joint!"

"Yes," Ichigo said, his voice hard and policeman-like, "But we also want to ask you questions, so we'll take you to the precinct anyway."

He shut the door on the drugged man and glanced over the car at Rukia. She nodded at him and asked smugly, "The two eight or the three one?"

-------

"See this is bad Gin," Ichigo said, taking off his coat and draping it across the first chair in the examination room, Gin was in the second one, Rukia was leaning against the wall gazing absentmindedly out the window. Ichigo flipped the chair around so his arms rested on the top of the back. "See, we've got four dead cops on our hands, and you seem to have vendetta against the men in blue."

Gin—finally coming down from his high—bobbed his head. "Yeah, some stupid cop put me in the joint for five years."

Rukia gave him a disgusted glance, "You remember the cop?"

Gin's eyes raked over her body, a familiar light of lust glazing over his expression, he grinned at her and said slyly, "He kinda looked like you, kinda talked like you too."

Rukia's expression hardened and she stared him down, Gin simply smiled and turned his face back to Ichigo, who was practically snarling at the man. "You'll do well," Ichigo growled softly, "If you talk to me and not my partner."

"Oh?" Ichimaru asked, "And why is that?"

"Because you'll have a better chance with me than with her," Ichigo told him lethally, "You see…" he pointed to Rukia, "That woman is the sister of the guy who collared you, and if she thinks you killed her brother, well… I don't think you'd leave this precinct with anything less than a needle in your arm."

Gin's glance dropped from Ichigo's and flittered around the room, the one-way glass, the concrete walls, the barred window, and the two detectives. He sighed and said, "If I talk to you, what do I get?"

"Depends on what you have to say," Rukia told him quietly. She marched over to him and slammed her hand, palm down, on the face of the overly-used table. "Did you kill any cops lately?"

Gin snorted and chuckled softly, "Fuck no!" He shook his head and continued, "I'm not stupid enough to kill a cop, I know what people get for doin' that shit."

Ichigo leaned forward a bit, "I know, I understand Gin. You see a cop in your neighborhood and he starts pushing you around, I can understand what you went through. If you tell the D.A. he pushed you around he might be lenient."

"Nah," Gin waved his hand in the air and shook his head, "Nothing like that, I ain't killed nobody."

"Then tell us who has," Rukia snarled softly, her anger growing at Ichigo's insinuations about her brother.

Ichimaru shrugged, "All I know is that I sell coke to some people."

"Who?" Ichigo demanded.

"Just some guys," Gin mumbled, "No one special."

"You're going to have to give us more than that Gin," Ichigo told him harshly, "Or else you're going to have a needle in your arm one way or another."

"Listen, okay," he sighed and shrugged his shoulders heavily, "I sell some coke to this guy I know, his name is… something Tosen."

"Did he pop the cops?" Ichigo asked him seriously.

"Nah," Ichimaru snorted, "Nah he didn't pop no cop."

Rukia's temper snapped. In less than a second she swiped her foot underneath Gin's chair and pushed his shoulder, thrusting him forcefully onto the ground. Before the suspect could even scream "police brutality" Rukia's hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing the sides.

Ichigo remained calmly seated as the scene unfolded before him; Rukia's hair was blocking his view of her face but he could tell that her cheeks were red and her eyes were shining darkly.

"You," Rukia growled, "Tell me what I want to know or you will not make it out of here alive."

Gin choked and whispered, "Y'all can't do that man!"

Rukia's hand tightened around his throat and she snarled, "Oh, but I think I can." She pressed her thumb against his pulse, feeling the desperately fluttering object. "Now, stop pussyfooting around and tell me what you know."

"Your guy was stabbed with a sword right?" Gin wheezed.

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow, "Well that's certainly not news to us, everyone who reads the paper knows that."

Gin tried to shake his head but ended up further choking himself, he settled for saying, "But no one knows that he was stabbed with a really _old_ sword."

Rukia leaned her head down a bit, "How old?"

"Damn man," he choked out, "I don't know… five, six hundred years." Rukia shot Ichigo a knowing look, he nodded. "Fuck man, all I know is that it was really old and the dude was stabbed with it."

"That 'dude,'" Rukia snapped, "Was my brother. Show some respect for the dead."

"Alright!" Ichimaru whined, "Alright! Just ease up a bit!"

The pressure on his throat lessened slightly; Rukia stared down at him hard, "Now, what do you know about the sword?"

Gin took in huge gulps of air as he spoke, "All I know is that I sell coke to this guy named Tosen, he has a major collection of swords."

"Why should that be of any interest to us?" Ichigo asked casually, leaning forward slightly so he could see Ichimaru, keeping Rukia in his line of vision, making sure she didn't kill the man before they got a straight answer.

Gin shot him an obvious look, "Because none of them swords was bought at an auction. They was all stolen."

"From where?" She demanded immediately, pressing her thumb down against his adams apple, hard enough to make a point but gentle enough not to start the choking. Ichigo had to admit, as far as explanations went, this one actually might help them.

"They was illegal," he whimpered, his eyes widening in slight fear at what he thought the female detective would do to him. "They was all supposed to go to an art exhibit, I think, I'm not sure. Like a new Japanese Culture exhibit… I dunno! I dunno okay? The guy just came to me once a month for some coke, he would always throw parties for some 'high end' clients."

Ichigo frowned slightly, "Wait, what do you mean 'came?' He doesn't come anymore?"

Gin's eyes shifted from Rukia to Ichigo, obviously contemplating whom to answer to. In the end, Rukia's fingers—still pressed against his throat—led his eyes towards her. "He stopped coming around June." He squealed, "He musta found someone better."

"Oh how sad," Rukia sneered. She gave Gin one last, threatening squeeze of his adams apple and began to stand, just slowly enough to warn him what would happen if he made a false move.

Ichigo tried not to focus on how her body twisted when she moved. "So where do we find him?" He asked, clearing his throat slightly.

Gin sat up just an inch. "I dunno where he lives," his fearful eyes flashed to Rukia and he set up his hands defensively, "I really don't. He always had someone come for me."

"And he didn't come himself?" Rukia glared, her foot tapping against the floor. It took a moment for Ichigo to realize how close her booted heel was to Gin's crotch. He smirked and rolled his eyes, at least she knew how to instill fear in the hearts of men.

"Of course he don't come himself," Gin said, keeping an eye on her tapping foot. "He's blind."

Rukia's foot ceased clicking and Ichigo stopped rocking in his chair.

"What?" He asked, leaning forward and frowning. "He's what?"

Gin shifted uncomfortably on the floor, although he didn't dare get up. "He's blind. Don't ask me how a blind guy could ever get to be somebody like him in a business like _that_. Practice I guess, but still, it's the truth."

"The truth," Rukia chuckled darkly. She leaned forward just a bit, Ichigo saw how her hair began to list into her face, how her perfectly rounded ass stuck slightly out into the cold air of the interrogation room, and how her delicate hands pressed themselves into her knees. Ichigo tried not to notice those things about her… but he did. His face hot, he blinked and looked away.

Rukia was still intimidating Gin, "See, if you _don't _tell us the truth, I'll make sure to come back and yank it out of you myself." Almost playfully, Rukia flicked her index finger against Gin's throat. He gulped convulsively.

"Now," she continued, "Where do you meet his guy?"

Gin swallowed, "I always met his guy near the docks."

"The docks?" Ichigo asked, piping up for the first time in a while. "They're over an hour out of town."

The dealer shrugged, "The man likes his privacy," he grinned slickly at Ichigo. "At least, I guess so."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and sighed slightly, "Now, do you really want to be guessing when she already wants to kill you?"

Gin's smile dropped immediately and looked over fearfully towards Rukia.

She winked at him but her lips never curved into the sickening smile that seemed to always grace Gin's face. "You had better be right." She murmured softly, almost wickedly. "See ya."

With that she stood up and motioned to Ichigo, who followed her out of the interrogation room, they clicked the door behind them and motioned for a uniformed officer to go in and arrest the creep.

"What time is it?" Rukia asked softly, watching through the one-way glass as Gin was handcuffed, read his rights, and manhandled out of the interrogation room. A slight smirk was on her face.

Ichigo glanced at his watch, "It's almost seven."

She turned to him and blinked, "Are you serious?" She asked, glancing out the window and seeing that it was indeed dusk. "I didn't think we were in there that long."

"Time kind of melts in that room," Ichigo remarked casually, "We were also in the slums for quite a while, so I guess it kind of makes sense."

She nodded and sighed, leaning her back against the mirror. She moved her eyes to Ichigo and asked, "So, do you want to call it a day, or should we get some work done?"

Ichigo knew the answer even before he verbalized. Throughout the day he had noticed how jittery Rukia had acted. She had been up with him since a little before four in the morning and, if he was correct, he surmised that she hadn't even slept the night before. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and noticed the small yawns she tried to keep hidden from him.

Not that he would tell her that he noticed.

"No," he replied casually, "Let's just go home. You must be tired from this morning."

He saw how she bristled at his comment, "I can work a few more hours." She told him defiantly.

He shot her a warning look and to his surprise she averted her tired eyes. "I don't care," Ichigo remarked, "Come on Rukia, I'm tired." He turned out of the room and yanked open the door, striding through it confidently.

She followed after him, but not before rolling her eyes nastily, "Whatever Kurosaki."

Ichigo paused slightly at the sound of his last name. He doubted Rukia noticed, even as he whipped around and glared at her, simply because she was busy gathering her coat off the nearby rack. His gaze became momentarily hostile and he felt like snarling at her. Before she turn to him fully he began to walk faster out the door. She called after him in an irritated voice and had to rush after him. Ichigo didn't care; for some reason, his heart was beating with heated anger, he could feel his face flush and his ears burn slightly and deep inside… he knew it was all because of _her_.

"Kurosaki!" She barked, calling after him in a flustered voice. She had to run to catch up with him, his strides were so long compared to hers and when put into hurried steps like those she was almost sprinting to reach him. "Kurosaki! Wait up!"

He stopped in front of the car, his feet planted steadily in the earth. Rukia slowed slightly and began to walk towards him. Her mind told her to be angry with him for practically racing her to the car, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to muster enough anger to start yelling.

_I'm getting too soft_. She thought, slightly annoyed at herself. Or maybe it was just the way that he looked in the fading sunlight. It might have been the way his fiery orange hair looked even brighter in the crimsons, yellows, magentas, and gingers of the evening light. It might have been the way half of his devilishly handsome face was cast into shadows. It might have been how his bright, amber, eyes seemed to pierce every inch of her skin when they looked at her.

Rukia swallowed hurriedly, trying to put of the fire that had unknowingly started in the pit of her stomach. Since when had she ever started thinking about Ichigo—no, Detective Kurosaki—like that? Never, that was when, and she damn sure wasn't about to start now.

Her eyes were set into an angry glower and her fists were balled, "What the hell was that for?" She demanded loudly. Her footsteps were bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. "Running off like that… what are you—two?"

She stopped in front of him and had every mind to give him one of the worst tongue lashing he had ever received when she felt his hands wrap tightly around her elbows, swing her around, and slam her back against the cold metal of the car. She yelped slightly at the unannounced motion and winced as her spine arched against the vehicle.

Her eyes went as wide as they had been in ages and angled towards his face, his own eyes were blazing with anger and frustration. Rukia didn't know what it was about the way he was staring at her right now, but it scared her and excited her all at once. She could feel her heart beating hard and fast in her chest and noticed how her skin tingled and bruised through the fabric of her shirt, directly where Ichigo's fingers were gripping her.

She gulped and began to breathe a bit harder.

"What," Ichigo snarled, "Is your fucking problem?"

Rukia saw the anger in his eyes and felt some begin to seep into hers. "What are you talking about?" She demanded, attempting in vain to keep her voice steady.

Ichigo shook her slightly, ramming her spine against the metal. She winced slightly but was determined to keep her angry gaze on his.

"What I'm talking about," he growled darkly, "Is you keeping everyone around you at arms length."

Her jaw clamped shut and she narrowed her amethyst eyes, "Get your hands off of me." She ground out.

"No." Ichigo said, his grip tightening with every syllable. "This time you won't get away, this time you'll get to feel what it's like for someone to be close to you _Rukia_."

She began to growl at his spitting pronunciation of her name. Who was he to tell her how she should act around other people? What right did he have at all?

"I bet you don't even call Renji by his first name." He mocked darkly.

"Of course I do." She growled, "I grew up with him."

Ichigo's eyes flashed dangerously. "Then what about your lovers, if you've ever have any?"

"Shut up." Rukia could feel the anger within her receding. All she could feel was her head beginning to spin.

"Or when you make love to someone, I'll bet you make sure he doesn't touch you where you know you want to be touched, just because you can't get over your _fucking_ pride."

"Pride?" She echoed darkly, "You want to talk about _pride_ you jackass—!"

Ichigo's hands tightened even more and Rukia felt her mouth clamp shut, all of her protests forgotten. Rukia was having difficulty breathing. Ichigo pressed himself against her until she was trapped between his body and the car, the light from the fading sun spilling onto their bodies.

But _he_ wasn't finished, no, not by a long shot.

"I'll bet that when you finish you get dressed, thank whoever he is, go directly home, and analyze the night like a science project."

"Stop it." She didn't know if she was begging now or not. All she could feel was Ichigo's body pushing against hers.

Suddenly, his hands weren't on her elbows anymore. One of them was on her waist, curling around her until it was pressed against her spine, pushing her towards him. The other hand was wrapping around her neck, tilting her head back until it was practically lying directly on the hood of the car. Rukia's breath was coming out in short, hot, pants, she didn't know why—she just couldn't seem to understand anything right now…

His thumb was running over her pulse and his breathing was beginning to become erratic. "I'll bet…" he began, his voice in a low, hushed whisper, "That… your lips really do taste as good as they look."

Rukia's eyelids fluttered shut the moment before Ichigo's heated mouth lightly touched hers. Rukia shuddered at the inexplicable feelings that coursed through her veins the moment she felt him. Her heart began to beat furiously inside of her chest, her breathing was hot and erratic as it seeped into Ichigo very mouth, he breathed her in, reveling in her scent and taste before shifting his lips above hers.

She heard a guttural groan reach her throat from deep within her belly. He ran his tongue around the outer edges of her open mouth, feeling the silkiness of her perfect, pink, lips. Half of her, the half that wasn't panicking at how good it felt to have him touch her like this, wondered why he was feeling her lips like this, she was open to him, she wanted him—for some reason—to slip inside of her and curl his tongue around hers, warming and tasting her like no one had before.

So why was he hesitating?

Ichigo couldn't believe this was happening. He had dreamed of this moment since the minute he saw her lithe body and heard her overtly flippant mouth. Yes he had dreamed, even though most of the time he had tried to suppress them for fear of wanting her even more.

But _Christ_… she tasted just like he had imagined. The pinkness of her mouth was the freshness of the earths' clearest spring, sprinkled with just a hint of cherry blossoms. They were untainted with lipstick, gloss, or anything else that would impair her heavenly flavor. He brought her bottom lip in between his mouth, sucking lightly enough to please her but strongly enough to drink in more of her unbelievable taste.

He could feel her breathing, it was unsteady and almost helpless. He sucked her essence deep within him, until she was filling his lungs completely.

She was whimpering now, her mouth trying to form words as his tongue traced her moist lips and he sucked her lightly. Beyond the roaring inside of his ears, he could hear her throat beginning to form single syllables. It wasn't a 'K' like he had thought it would be, but instead, the beginning of his first name, the subtle 'I' he had wanted so badly to hear uttered from the lips he was now sampling.

"I… chi… go…" she whispered, drawing in one more shuddering breath before Ichigo's will crumbled.

The hand on the back of her neck gripped tightly and pressed her mouth completely against his. Ichigo's movements were almost desperate as he tilted his head to the side and gripped her hair tightly. His tongue was inside of her mouth, coaxing and teasing and tasting. Rukia whimpered at the feelings he was evoking, his wicked appendage was running over her teeth and the roof of her mouth and even wrapping itself around hers. He wanted her to follow him home.

She moaned softly and ended up probing gently into his mouth. His taste was exactly like him, spicy, hot, and passionate. He was warm and inviting and _addictive_. She felt herself exploring him almost against her will. And then suddenly, her hands were grappling for purchase on his shirt and pulling him closer until her chest was pressed directly against his. She was no longer leaning against the car but standing upright, her fingers scrunching his shirt and pressing every possible part of her body against his. She was kissing him vigorously now, tasting him and touching him and ransacking him completely.

Their lips burned together and their teeth clicked furiously as their tongues battled for dominance. Ichigo's first hand left her backside and reached up to cup her other cheek, angling her head so he could kiss her more effectively.

She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs ran over her cheeks, sending coarse shivers through ever part of her body. Her palms were sweating as they pressed against him, and almost on their own will, curled into arches, to be dragged like claws down his muscular front.

His kiss changed almost immediately. Within seconds his mouth was running over her jaw, her chin, and her neck, his tongue was skipping over her erratic pulse and his lips were sucking her skin as though he wanted to eat her whole. His hands were everywhere as well, running down the center of her chest, smoothing over her hips, skittering his fingers over her thighs, then grappling her buttocks, yanking her heated core towards him.

It was then… when Rukia felt the hard bulge of desire pressing insistently against her, that she knew she needed to pull away, and pull away fast.

Immediately her hands flattened against his chest and shoved him… _hard_.

Ichigo stumbled backwards, his fingers making strange, gripping movements, as if still trying to hold onto whatever he could reach of her. His eyes were blinking as if he had just recently been struck by a blinding light. He was panting and his chest was heaving diligently.

Only hers was heaving even harder, her breasts were tingling underneath strapped layers of clothing, and a heavy, throbbing sensation was pulsating between her legs. She blinked rapidly and pressed a hand against her heart, it was beating faster than it had ever beaten in her life. She leaned back heavily against the car and slumped down slightly, pressing one shaking hand to one shaking knee and another hand to her puffy, spent, lips.

She didn't dare look at Ichigo, she couldn't… she just couldn't.

"Rukia…" he croaked through rapid breaths.

She didn't look up, she only dropped her coat, turned on her heel, and bolted.

She heard him call out after her but she didn't care, she only continued running. She had done it before—run home that was, but she had never done it in desperation. She just knew she had to get out of there. She had to get out before she and Ichigo got into his car, drove to her apartment, stripped off each others clothes, and completed what they had just started.

There was just enough light to see by, and with that she sprinted, hard and hot. It was completely dark by the time she reached her home; she fumbled the key into the lock on her door and pushed it open. Reveling in the feeling of being in a place where she knew she was safe from the dangers of passion and lust.

She closed the door behind her and locked it. When the metal bolt clicked into place, Rukia rested her back against the oak and tried to steady her irregular breathing.

It wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to have done that. She didn't mean to. It was a mistake. She, Rukia Kuchiki, wasn't supposed to feel things like desire, passion and heat. Her heart wasn't supposed to beat itself senseless at the very thought of Ichigo's kiss, and the inside of her legs was not supposed to be this warm or this wet at the very thought of his body pressing against hers.

Not her. No, most definitely not her.


	10. Stranglehold

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't put up an update for a while. I'm having a tiny war with my biology teacher, well, me and the rest of my class. Evil woman… grr.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter because it was sure as hell fun to write.**

**Thanks for all the reviews I received on the last chapter! READ, ENJOY, AND REVIEW!!!)**

**Chapter 9**

"You left this… yesterday."

Ichigo lifted the heavy coat and threw it over the backside of her chair. She didn't look up at him. She didn't want him to see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"Thanks." She muttered shortly, she continued flipping through the papers on her—technically still his—desk as she tried to blink out the memories of the previous night.

Ichigo slid silently into the seat positioned at the edge of her desk, it was their new arrangement: she would keep her legs tucked underneath the bureau while he would be turned to face her, his body positioned on the outside of the desk. She remembered how she had fought him for so long about getting the seat, she had even come close to hitting him before he finally sighed heavily, threw up his arms, and yelled that she could have it. She had considered the victory a success and, in celebration, put a squishy stress ball on the corner of her new desk area.

Granted the stress ball was a mangled mess right now, but that wasn't the point.

He sat heavily down on his side of the desk and cleared his throat slightly. Rukia still didn't want to look up at him. She was afraid that if she did she'd want him to kiss her again.

"So," he said softly, "Do you want to go try and find Tousen today?"

"Um…" She began, cursing herself for letting her voice become so quiet and wavering. "I guess we should."

There was a pause. "We could do our paperwork today. If you want…"

Rukia looked at her watch, still unable to glance at Ichigo's face. It was around nine in the morning. She had been here for six hours whereas Ichigo had just come in. She swallowed and wondered what he had done to make him so late for work. What had he done when he realized that he couldn't sleep, couldn't close his eyes without thinking of her lips beneath his?

When it had happened to her she had simply gone into work early. But he… what had he done?

"No." She said, clearing her throat with a quick click and shaking her hair slightly. She needed to get control of herself. "We should go to the docks, the ones Ichimaru told us about."

Without another word, Ichigo nodded, picked up his coat, and started towards the door, car keys in hand.

Rukia stayed at her desk for only a few more moments before blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. Her hands unclenched from the papers she had been holding tightly and her lungs released a pent up breath she hadn't even known she'd been restraining.

Shakily wondering why this was happening to her, she slowly rose from the chair, took the coat from the back of the chair, and made to follow Ichigo.

But as her fingers touched the soft fabric of the coat she stopped and felt a lump begin to form in the very center of her throat. Rukia glanced around the precinct to make sure no one was looking before pulling the soft coat towards her face and drawing in its scent.

A tingle ran up her spine as she realized she recognized it. Of course there was her overpowering scent—understandable since she wore it nearly every day—but beneath that, on a faint whiff, was the spicy scent of masculinity. Closing her eyes she breathed in the aroma once again. She could picture a rumpled apartment, tacky furniture, a couple dishes left out, and Ichigo, right in the middle of it all. He would be wearing boxers, of course, alone in his apartment… sometimes he would wear a shirt, but not always.

Just him. The scent filled with power and agility and so much sexual potency it was almost enough to make her feel drunk inside.

Rukia's fingers loosened slightly on the jacket and brought it away from her face. With despair she stared at the camel colored coat. She clenched her jaw, threw it over her chair, and began to walk towards the door. As she strode into the cooling autumn air she knew that she would get cold at the docks, but she didn't care. She wouldn't be able to concentrate if she was wearing Ichigo's scent.

She needed a new coat anyway.

-------

It was mid-November before they were able to locate the spot Tousen's men frequented at the docks.

They had spent a month scouring the watery site with members of the canine unit, and then, when the dogs couldn't even find anything, anything worth reporting that is, the unit had left and only Ichigo and Rukia remained… and that alone was pain enough.

They had barely spoken since the… _incident_ that had conspired between them, not a word other than those related to work. Everything had to do with paperwork, everything was about the case; nothing was about how his kiss had made her feel so much more than she had ever felt before.

Rukia shook her head furiously at the thought, her hair brushing against the lapels of her new, navy colored jacket. She couldn't be thinking of that right now. She needed a clear head right now. She couldn't be so careless as to let her mind wander. Especially since she was wandering on top of termite infested planks of wood, hovering five feet above murky black water.

Rukia checked her gun holster once again and breathed a slight sigh when she felt the cool metal touch her fingertips. She kept her head low and continued to sweep her eyes around the area, occasionally looking down at her feet to make sure she wouldn't fall through the crumbling wood.

She crept around a corner and immediately thought back to the cup of coffee he had started to buy her everyday. Piping hot and black, just how she liked it. He brought it to her each morning at seven. She thought it was strange that he was now coming in so early, he used to saunter in whenever he wanted, nine o'clock, eleven o'clock… he always claimed that he was out doing something exceedingly important but Rukia could always smell a slight sweat on him, as though he had been hitting the gym instead of a couple of perps.

And then there were the looks. She always seemed to feel his eyes on her, but whenever she looked up and tried to catch him in the act, he would always be staring at a piece of paper or in the rearview mirror or even down at his shoes.

Rukia pressed her back against a rotting box and made sure to keep her hair away from the crumbling wood. With practiced motions, she inched her face just a bit around the corner and peered around. Nothing. Damn… where was this guy? She knew she had seen him… even Ichigo had seen him… where the hell did he disappear to?

He was also being a lot more disagreeable lately, well, when he wasn't being completely silent. It was something new that she found quite irritating. She didn't even know where his hostility had come from. Was it because she had run away right after his soul-stealing kiss? I mean, he had told her that many women—and men—wanted to sleep with him, did she insult him by running away?

Rukia snorted and kept sliding her way across the docks. Not that it should even matter to her, she wasn't going to suddenly start being concerned that she'd hurt his feelings. Definitely not. He was like a wall; she tried to tell herself, she shouldn't be feeling guilty that she had accidentally bumped it with her shoulder… or her mouth.

She heard a creak a few feet away. Her attention snapped back into place and she grasped the butt of her gun. Her fingers ran over the discolored wood of a large box and she drew in a deep breath before swinging around and raising her gun to the appropriate height.

There was no one there. She narrowed her eyes and tried to tell her beating heart to stop acting so irrationally. Just a creak. There were always creaks like that whenever she was out in the field. Perfectly normal.

With a sigh of, what she told herself was, irritation, Rukia re-holstered her gun and kept creeping along.

It just wasn't like him… what he was doing now. Granted, she had only known him for a couple of months but she felt like she knew him on another level, a deeper level than she was really letting on. She told herself she was being crazy, that this was just a weird phase that she would eventually see come and go, a slight… _idea_.

That's what she had organized this as, it was not a crush, it was not an infatuation, it was an _idea_. Whenever she thought of Ichigo and his kiss she simply diverted the fluttering in her heart and the heating in her stomach to the _idea_ of him. She liked the _idea_ that he would kiss her like that and touch her as he had; she just didn't like that he had actually done it.

That's where Rukia's great sense of devaluation came into play. She could downplay one of the most significant moments of her life into a mere Hollywood air kiss—not the full on oral exploration she had experienced instead. It was a gift, she called it, it was a gift that she could take something so significant and turn it into an almost nothingness.

As Rukia pressed her hand against another box she narrowed her eyes and thought back to how she had done it… yes, she had come out of the precinct… Ichigo was angry with her… she had tripped and fell… he caught her… his lips accidentally brushed her cheek… she had run home for exercise.

It was a perfectly logical explanation… it was safe… it was reasonable.

It was also a big fucking lie.

Inwardly, Rukia shrugged, not really caring that she had downplayed the kiss so much that in the front of her mind it was merely a peck on the cheek while in the darkest corner of the back of her mind it was an X rated porno. It didn't matter though; she had pushed the explicit memory so far into the back of her mind that it was nothing more than a speck to her. A speck…

She swallowed convulsively and told herself to continue moving. She needed to find the man they were searching for, the guy who would lead them to Tousen… she needed to find him so she could arrest him for killing her brother and her friends. Setting a more determined look on her face she clenched her jaw shut and rounded another corner. She saw a few stray cats, some mice, and a couple of rotting fish corpses… nothing spectacular…

What she didn't see was the man standing behind her, holding a rope level with her neck.

-------

She hadn't been acting right for the past few days, Ichigo mused as he walked blatantly between the aisles of piled boxes laden with insects and parasites. His eyes were sweeping from one corner to another, looking for any signs of actual _intelligent_ life, but his mind was on a completely different track.

He sighed and returned to his topic of contemplation, in all actuality, she hadn't been acting right for the past month and a half.

He knew it was because of him and what he had done to her on that early autumn night so long ago. _So_ long ago…

Sighing, he continued to walk down the aisles of the docks, completely in range of any amateur's gun or rifle, but Ichigo didn't care right now. He continued stomping about in the open, confident that he would be able to hear the click of a gun and dive before he was hit.

He kicked a stray stone out of his way and ground his bottom teeth together.

He didn't like how she had been acting. She had been too… too… _quiet_; yes, he guessed that would be the appropriate way to phrase it. She was being much to quiet for a woman of Rukia Kuchiki's standards.

She wasn't the type of person to blush and turn away like she was doing now… it just wasn't the Rukia he had grown used to knowing. He just felt uncomfortable with her new lack of fire. She was the type of person who liked to scream at you just for the hell of it, she would punch, kick, twist, grab, and scratch until your lesson was learned and you cried 'uncle.'

Ichigo sighed and wondered if he had simply sucked the life out of her with his kiss. Granted, he thought as he glanced around a corner, he wasn't the only one who had been doing the kissing. He felt a familiar heat curl up in his stomach when he thought of how her lips had opened under his, taking in many shuddering breaths as he traced her flush pinkness with his tongue and then slipped inside of her.

She had kissed him with such force he had felt his breath completely sucked out of his lungs. Her hands had run over his chest and grappled for any purchase she could find. And her hips… in the brief time they had been pressed against his, they had undulated and shifted so his already stiff member had grown even stiffer.

Ichigo shuddered involuntarily and attempted to quash the feelings of desire now growing inside of him. When the memories wouldn't cease he let a frustrated sigh escape his throat. Ever since the night they had kissed his mind had been playing X rated fantasies involving his mouth, her body, and a couple of naughty places not suitable for public conversation.

But… Christ… he wanted her. There was no denying that. He would think of having her every way possible, any way possible, every where possible. A couple of times his mind even turned to her being spread out on the break room table or him being on the underside of their desk, kissing and licking her thighs until she came on his tongue… he even—

In the distance, he heard a strangled cry let loose and the smash of boxes toppling over. Ichigo's head snapped out of his daze and his legs immediately began working, in a matter of seconds he was sprinting towards the disturbing sounds, his muscles screaming in protest.

He was there in a matter of moments. He turned the corner, gun held in his hand, and immediately saw an extremely large man holding a taunt rope. The rope was thick and wrapped around the neck of a struggling Rukia Kuchiki. She was lifted off the ground, her feet kicking and flying through the air. Her face was the color of pale cream and her lips were tinged with blue. The man's face was scrunched with the effort to hold her still against his body and to keep the rope securely situated around her neck. He didn't notice Ichigo coming closer.

Ichigo's eyes immediately began to bleed red. The next thing he knew he was holding his gun at eye level with the man, he remembered shouting some words, maybe warnings, maybe threats, he just wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was that the man turned his startled eyes on him, saw the gun, tightened his grip on the rope, and Ichigo shot.

The bullet grazed the mans' shoulder and he yelped in pain and surprise. The rope went slack and the monsters hand shot over to the injured spot, smacking his disgusting meat-hook against the top of Rukia's head, slamming her limp body in the direction of more rotting boxes. Ichigo surged forward and slammed his knee into the thug's stomach; he doubled over and wheezed for breath. He had barely recovered when Ichigo sent the whole of his forearm down on his neck, slamming him unconscious as his body dropped to the rotting ground. The man would be out for hours.

"Rukia!" Ichigo cried, his attention snapping back to her. He dove towards her instantly and brought his hands around her back, lifting her head up gently, hearing and feeling her heaving lungs as they furiously worked for breath.

She was coughing and her face was flushing with blood. He sat down and pulled her by her underarms until she was resting on his lap. He swallowed and placed his hand on her breastbone, directly above her heart. He rubbed slowly, attempting to calm her frantic breathing so she wouldn't hyperventilate.

"Shh…" he said softly, keeping his eyes bent on her face and not the man who had just tried to strangle her, it was blank and dead-looking. "Shh… Rukia, its fine. He's out, you're safe."

Her breathing was becoming a bit less desperate and Ichigo continued rubbing her chest. It took almost ten minutes for her heart to stop frantically beating, for her lips to return to their normal shade, and for her eyes to stop skittering around in fear.

He saw her swallow and wince slightly. Her hand shakily rose to her throat, he saw her feel the small rise of red welts on her skin and he knew that she would have a bruise later.

She swallowed once again and opened her mouth, Ichigo's hand had not stopped the rubbing on her chest and now his other hand was squeezing and caressing her shoulder. His amber eyes were trained intently on her mouth as she tried to create words on her tongue.

In the end, she simply wheezed, "My… b-badge…" she gasped.

Ichigo frowned and leaned forward a bit more, his chin exceedingly close to her forehead. "What? What about your badge?"

She drew in another breath and coughed sporadically. "He…he took it f-from me."

Ichigo's eyebrows curled into a frown and he glanced over at the prostrate man on the ground. His eyes traveled around to his clenched fist, along with the length of rope clenched in his meaty palms, Ichigo could see a shining, metallic chain and a glimpse of a badge. Rukia's badge. Her eyes were on it too and he nodded, telling her he'd get it as soon as she could stand.

He didn't bother telling her that it felt nice to hold her like this, simply rubbing her chest and feeling her breathe against his hand. He brought her further against his chest, until her head was resting against the crook of his neck and shoulder. His arm twisted until it was coming from beneath, still rubbing her chest but at a different angle. He steadied his breathing and waited until Rukia was able to keep her breathing level with his and continued rubbing her shoulders, alternately whispering and sighing to her. _You're going to be okay_, he told her, _it will all be fine._

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about fifteen minutes. Rukia's breathing finally became calmer and her raspy breaths were less forced and more relaxed. She eventually let her neck go slack and allowed his hands to rub against the welts on her neck. He guessed it must have felt good to her because her throat kept vibrating as if it were sighing in relief. She seemed at ease like this.

Right now, he was with Rukia the woman, not Rukia the cop, something he was graciously thankful for.

"I killed him."

Ichigo's eyes slid open unexpectedly and blinked at the part of Rukia's face he could see; the profile of her nose, the shine in her eye, and the softness of her mouth. Her expression was quiet, reflective almost.

Ichigo continued rubbing her chest and murmured, "Who?"

Rukia blinked once and her long, long lashes fluttered with the slight breeze. Neither of them truly noticed their surroundings, the smell of decomposing fish, the dank air of rotting boxes, or the scurrying sounds made by rats nearby. Ichigo was too focused on what he could see of Rukia's face and hear from her lips, while Rukia was completely aware of his hand rubbing her breastbone and the throbbing encroaching upon her heart.

She needed to tell him.

"Kaien." She whispered, her voice dropping a few octaves, "I killed him."

Ichigo's hand slowed down to a smooth rubbing, his thumb lightly touching the skin just above her neckline. Rukia had to ignore the sensation in order to focus.

"He was my mentor." She murmured, "At the Police Academy… and when I first entered the two eight." Her eyes shifted down. "I adored him; he taught me everything about being a cop—but not just a cop, a _good_ cop, and an even better detective."

Ichigo nodded slowly and pressed his cheek to her hair, liking how it felt on his skin. "And?" He asked, willing her to continue.

A shiver ran through Rukia's spine, "He was my first partner. I told him I was too inexperienced to be of any use, but he insisted… said I would learn a thing or two." She paused and sighed softly, "He was the greatest; and everyday we would catch the perp, collar the bad guy, or just stake out some random house. He taught me how to rely on myself and h-how to use my own strength to get things done."

Ichigo felt a cold inkling of jealousy start in the pit of his stomach and run its way up his spine. He forced it back down and told himself to answer, "What happened?"

"His wife was murdered." She said softly, her limp hands coming up from the dirty ground to rest on the tops of her thighs. "She was a street cop and was out on duty when some whack job grabbed her, raped her, sodomized her, and killed her."

The jealousy Ichigo had felt a moment ago vanished, only to be replaced by guilt and self-disgust.

"When Kaien found out…" Rukia whispered, "He just went crazy." She swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath. "He wouldn't talk to me anymore, he wouldn't listen to the lieutenant, he began to go out on his own, he started talking to himself, he—he… he went crazy trying to find the guy who did it."

Ichigo reached down to one of her delicate hands and picked it up, gently rubbing his callused thumb over the top. "And?"

"One day," she said, her voice becoming scratchy and unclear, "One day he called me, told me he had caught the guy who had killed his wife." She cleared her throat once more and shook her head. "When I got there… he was holding a mother and her two year old son at gunpoint."

Ichigo's stomach dropped six feet under the ground.

"I told him he had gotten it wrong," she said, "That he needed to let them go… but he wouldn't stop _screaming_. He was just jabbing and jabbing and _jabbing_ the gun at them and I just stood there, crying and yelling at him to stop."

Her breathing was unsteady again and he could feel her heart accelerating. The rubbing on her chest became more persistent as he tried to calm her down.

"It started to rain then," she said shakily, "Just pouring down. I had my gun out and so did he. I had just charged at him, he had dropped his gun… I pushed him away and made the mother and her son run. They were safe but I…I… he started yelling at _me_, telling me that I had let 'him' get away, that I had destroyed the only hope he had for getting his wife back.

"I told him she couldn't come back, I told him that over and over, but he didn't believe me. He just kept saying it over and over until it was pounding in his skull. So—So he came towards me and grabbed the top of my gun, I knew he was going to twist it around and point it at me but I—I couldn't stop him, I was just standing there, crying and yelling at him to stop…"

"Rukia…" Ichigo murmured.

"But then I heard a bang." She said, her voice wobbling dangerously, "I heard a bang and felt the gun recoil in my hands. Kaien was in front of me, standing still. I looked at him and saw a huge _hole_ in his chest… it was bleeding so _badly_."

Her grip on his hand tightened and she continued to breathe heavily, her voice was cracked and pained and all Ichigo wanted to do was make it go away.

"But then… then he just… slumped. He just slumped forward. His head fell on my shoulder and I could have sworn I heard him thank me. And then—then… he died."

"Rukia… don't…" Ichigo began, but she cut him off, determined to finish.

"I was there when his sister and little brother came to see his body. They saw the gunshot wound and demanded to know who had shot him. They wouldn't stop yelling in the precinct until they were told. So I came forward and told them I had done it." She snorted softly and shook her head, "They left without saying another word. I haven't heard from them in over three years.

"After I that I was reviewed by the Commission board, found not guilty, and given two months leave—to 'recuperate.'" She spit the word out like it was poison. "But how could I? When the only thing I ever saw when I closed my eyes was Kaien's face?" She sighed and closed her eyes painfully. "When I got back no one wanted to be my partner… no one except Renji, and that was just because he knew me from when we were kids."

"Rukia," Ichigo began, "You—"

"That's why I've been so cold to you all along, Ichigo… or, I think so at least." She turned to him and opened her large, violet eyes. He was almost blinded by their intensity and immediately felt the urge to place his mouth on her eyelids. He wanted to kiss them closed so she wouldn't have to witness anymore pain and suffering. "You look… you look… like his double. Except for the hair. His was black, yours is… is…"

To his surprise, one of her hands lifted from her thigh and reached up, gently grabbing a lock of his hair and twirling it between her thumb and her index finger. His breath caught in his throat as she watched the way the light played on the strands. "Yours is like the sun."

A shuddering gasp came out of his mouth and out of his lungs and out of his heart. She continued to twirl his hair, staring intently at the way it fell on his head.

How could she do that? How could she take a simple, five word sentence and turn it into the most heart-pounding, mind-numbing, and nerve-wrecking three seconds in his life?

"Rukia…" he murmured, leaning just a bit forward, just enough to brush his mouth against hers.

He would have… if she hadn't turned her head away at her very last moment, so instead of her beautiful mouth, his lips ended up pressing against the hollow of her neck. He felt her shiver slightly but knew that she hadn't wanted him to kiss her fully. Ichigo's stomach hurt at the rejection but he digested it with as much pride as he could, allowing his lips to linger just below her ear, then slide down to touch the red, welting, line now forming across her throat.

Her shiver grew larger and only succeeded in evolving to a tiny quaking when he flicked his tongue out and gently licked her.

"Ichigo," she murmured hoarsely, "Stop it."

He pressed his mouth closer, tenderly caressing her injured neck, more intent on soothing her than pleasuring her… even though at the moment he seemed to be doing both.

"I don't want to." He said softly, rubbing his nose against her. His hand, still running along her chest, was beginning to make sideways motions to brush against her breasts. She had to suppress a whimper whenever he came near to touching one.

She sighed and shook her head; in a slow but decisive motion, she leaned forward and began to detach herself from his embrace. "Don't, Ichigo, just… don't." She stood up gingerly, trying not to exert herself anymore than she had to.

Ichigo was still sitting on the ground, his bottom numb from being in one position for so long. He watched her rise and felt a cold hand clench around his stomach, squeezing him as if to warn him against what he was about to say.

"Rukia," he said softly, but still clearly enough to make a point. "Why are you doing this?" He put his knees underneath him and slowly stood, brushing dirt from his jeans in the process. "I want you more than anything I've ever wanted before, I think that's plain enough to see." His eyes narrowed as her form stiffened in front of him. "And I know you want me too."

"I don't." She murmured, reaching down to the still-unconscious thug and taking her badge from his clasped hand.

"Yes," Ichigo reinforced, "You do." He came forward and stopped only a foot away. "I can tell… when I touch you or when I look at you… you blush like you're imagining what's going to happen between us."

"Nothing is going to happen between us." Rukia said clearly, turning around and shaking her head. "Absolutely nothing."

"You know that's a lie, Rukia." He said, taking a half-step forward.

"No…" she said, leaning back a bit. "It's not." She shook her head and sighed again. "I told you that story so you would stop." She closed her eyes softly and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "I don't want it."

Ichigo's eyes glowered, "Don't want what?" He asked dangerously, taking another half step forward.

A rancid breeze lifted through the docks and lifted Rukia's hair; it shifted in the air and fluttered around her face. Ichigo's hand lifted immediately and brushed it back, but instead of relinquishing her face from his grasp he hooked his hand to the back of her neck.

She raised her eyes to his and shook her head softly from side to side. "Ichigo… don't… I can't—"

Ichigo's lips descended softly on hers and kissed her with such tenderness and slowly building heat it was all she could do not to melt into him directly. Her hands grasped his collar and he clutched the base of her head as well as the small of her back, pressing her softly against him.

She groaned softly as his tongue traced her bottom lip, silently demanding that she open to him. She couldn't have resisted if she tried. Her mouth opened almost immediately and his tongue slipped inside. She reveled in the chance to taste him again. His sweetly spicy scent that drove her out of her mind with want and desire. In the back of her mind she wanted to know if she tasted as good to him as he did to her.

She wondered briefly… just what would happen if she let him run his sinfully tempting mouth over her entire body.

She felt her fingers weaken from his collar and smooth up the sides of his neck. God he was strong. She could feel his heavy pulse under her fingertips and the wiry sinew of his muscular body as it strained against hers.

But his lips… oh, his lips… this kiss was completely different from the one she had experienced that September night so long ago. The last one had been steamed and heated, fueled by anger and unquenched desires. This one though, was soft and steady; his lips touched hers with the lightness of angels' wings but with enough purpose to make his intentions quite clear. His hand was massaging her scalp and rubbing against her back as he worked tenderly on her mouth. Nothing else seemed to matter to him more at this very moment than giving her the most exquisite kiss she had ever received in her entire lifetime. The tenderness, the tenacity, the tormenting desires he was attempting to relay in a single, gentle, kiss… everything was too perfect to be true.

Ichigo's kiss slowed even more until he placed his lips on the corners of her mouth and her cheeks. He sighed against her face and lightly kissed her fluttering eyelids, causing her to murmur and whimper with unprecedented helplessness.

Ichigo smoothed his hand up and down her back and wondered if she was still having trouble breathing.

Slowly, he took his face away from hers and watched as her eyes opened to the full extent of their violet vivaciousness. She blinked a few times before sighing heavily and sliding her hands away from his neck.

"That's why…" she murmured softly, "We can't do this."

Ichigo gulped softly and slowly shook his head from side to side. "Don't do this Rukia."

"We have to." She said quietly, moving back another step. Ichigo wouldn't relinquish his grip on her and she only succeeded in him pulling her closer to him. "Ichigo," she murmured, "We can't."

"We can."

"No," she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him back, not with as much force as she used last time, but enough to push him off of her completely. "We can't… Ichigo," her eyes turned on him and she gazed at him with a pained expression. "I told you that story because… because I thought it would make you realize… Kaien got too close; I was almost destroyed when he died." She sighed, her breath frustrated and hoarse, "If I let you get too close and you… and you… like Kaien… Ichigo I would just die."

"I'm not Kaien, Rukia." Ichigo said, holding his hands stiffly at his sides. "I'll never be him."

"I don't want him." Rukia said softly. "I don't want another Kaien." She shook her head, "I want you, Ichigo. Sometimes it's all I think about."

Ichigo's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, he felt it drown in the feelings she was evoking. "Then why…?"

"I just can't…" She said quickly, quickly but softly. Ichigo could tell her heart was dying just a bit inside. "I can't let myself get close." She raised her head once again and looked at him with those piercing eyes. "I don't want a relationship with you, I can't let myself. Please just don't… don't do anything like that again."

Ichigo shook his head and allowed a hard glint to come into his eyes, "I can't promise you that, Rukia."

"Ichigo…" she whispered, running her hand through her ebony hair. "Please…" She shut her eyes and tried to compromise a bit of her dignity. She hated begging, there was nothing lower.

"Listen to me, Rukia," Ichigo muttered softly, his voice almost becoming a low growl. He took a step forward and made sure that he and the object of his desires was directly in front of him. She didn't move away like he thought she would. She stood firm and steady, glaring at him with her recuperating strength. His eyes bored directly into hers as he spoke. "I'll play this little game of tag with you, but let me tell you, I'm going to play dirty—_extremely_ dirty. You want your distance, that's fine, but when you're within arms reach of me the ball's in my court. I'll touch you, kiss you, and do whatever I can until you're finally mine. And I don't mean melting softly mine… I mean screaming underneath me mine."

She sucked in a sharp breath and ended up coughing slightly. Ichigo might have felt bad but her expression was completely worth it. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open slightly. She looked horrified but dangerously sexual at the same time.

Ichigo let a slow, evil, grin curl on his mouth. "Do we understand each other?"

She glared at him and then swallowed, her face showing slight pain but her body not giving away a single inch.

Slowly… ever so slowly… he saw a wicked smirk begin to form on her face. Ichigo was almost taken aback by her change in attitude, but let it pass nonchalantly. He needed the upper hand in this.

Rukia shook her head lightly and turned around, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She was ready to dial when she glanced at him and said, "This will be interesting."

Ichigo nodded his head and moved a bit close to her. "Yes it will."


	11. Suggestive Invitations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Thank you guys **_**so much**_** for all of my fantastic reviews! I really hope you guys know that if not for all of your support I probably wouldn't be writing as much as I am!**

**Okay, I need to put this in here because if not I feel I might be injured by some modest members of this site. THERE WILL BE EXPLICIT CONTENT. Not **_**so much**_** in this chapter, just a bit of lime and hot kisses, but coming up there will be **_**CONTENT**_**. So just you know.)**

**Chapter 10**

"Merry almost Christmas." Ichigo murmured gruffly as he approached her from behind.

Rukia practically yelped when she felt his all-too-noticeable form leaning against the desk, trapping her with one of his arms and almost boxing her into the wooden structure. She moved immediately and ended up jerking her chair back; slamming it's top into Ichigo's midriff. He grunted and coughed slightly at the abrupt movement, steadying himself so the coffee he was holding would not spill. He looked up but did not try and catch Rukia as she grabbed some papers from her desk and jolted off into the direction of the M.E.'s office.

"What now?" He called after her retreating back.

"I need to check on, uh, something!" She told him, not even turning her head as she raced out into the hallway.

Ichigo blinked twice, set the coffee down on the table, and allowed a small smirk to crawl onto his face.

_Oh yeah_, he thought arrogantly, _I'm winning._

Rukia rushed down the hallway, clutching the stack of meaningless papers to her chest, feeling the heady sensations finally start to disappear. When she made it to the end of the corridor, she looked back over her shoulder and through the glass-paned top of the wooden doors. She could see Ichigo bending over the desk, glancing at a few of the papers she had left in her hurry to get away from him. He was sipping a small coffee held in his hand while another rested nearby.

Rukia swallowed thickly and shook her hair out of her eyes. She quickly turned away and glanced over at the stairs leading to the M.E.'s office. With a half-hearted shrug she sighed and opened the door. Descending to the cold area she instantly wondered if she would walk in on Orihime and Ishida… again.

The two had been at it like rabbits since they had first met. It was so bad that both of the examiners were slacking off in their hours just to get time together. Sometimes when Ichigo and Rukia needed to speak to Orihime they were met with a note that would read, "_At the two eight, be back in one hour._"

Needless to say, it was getting quite ridiculous. So much so that the pair of detectives had even tried examining bodies themselves—with Rukia perpetually on one side of the table while Ichigo was on the other, even though he would try and scoot over to her when she wasn't looking. As it turned out, examining bodies and reading medical report sheets were much harder than either Ichigo or Rukia suspected. In the end, she and he had simply resorted to sitting around in the office, staring at various amounts of equipment and waiting for her to come back.

Neither of them wanted to repeat the experience they had walked in on a few months previous—ever—so they hadn't gone in search of them, but they had seen evidence of such promiscuous acts littering the cabinets nearby. Condoms, contraceptives, and a package of birth control pills… the way Rukia saw it Orihime was definitely getting enough.

Sighing, she opened the door to the examiner's office and poked her head in, "Orihime?" She called quietly, "Orihime are you in here?"

"Kuchiki?" A sweet voice said from inside, "Yeah, I'm here, come on in."

Rukia came in at ease, supremely confident that she would not find her new friend sprawled on an examining table, Ishida's face between her thighs.

"Hey," she said wearily, "How are you?"

The pretty doctor was standing near a table, on which a dead person was sprawled; Rukia could see the feet from underneath the sheet as well as the shoulders and the neck… without a head.

She whistled softly, "What happened to this guy?"

Orihime sighed and leaned against the metallic table, "Head chopped off with the blunt edge of an ax."

Rukia didn't even bother to wince, "Ouch, who's taking the case?"

"I think this is going to Kiyone and Sentaro." She answered.

The detective snorted, "If they can stop arguing long enough to actually find the guy." She crossed her arms across her chest and slumped against the wall. "Christ…" With her free hand, she rubbed it against her face and wondered why she was hiding down here like a frightened child.

Orihime blinked her large eyes at Rukia and lifted her hand to pull off the mask covering her mouth. "Kuchiki?" She said softly, "What's wrong?"

Rukia's jaw clamped shut and she swallowed stiffly, unconsciously, she reached a hand to the top of her neck and felt around her throat. The welts were gone and the bruises vanished but the memory of the rope around her neck was still fresh in her mind.

The rope, the bastard who had done it, and Ichigo's sweetly searing kiss.

"Is it your neck?" Orihime asked, coming toward her and peering at the creamy column. "It looks fine."

"Oh," Rukia muttered, "It's not that… it's just…" She drew in a breath and let it whoosh out pathetically. She could feel the examiner's eyes on hers and knew that she was waiting for something to be said, a deep confession of the heart, a telltale secret of the soul, whatever was troubling her… anything like that. Rukia winced slightly at the silence and wondered if she actually should tell the woman what had been going on.

Swiftly, she cleared her throat and said, "Did you know that the guy who tried to strangle me, Yammy, I think his name was, ended up getting shanked in prison before we got to talk to him? He died on the scene."

Orihime's eyes widened significantly and she drew in a gasp, "No!"

Rukia nodded grimly, "Yeah, it turns out that this Tousen guy has lots of connections in the prison area. One call, one order, and he's dead." She sighed, "Makes my job a hell of a lot harder."

"I'm so sorry!" She gasped, her eyes widening even more.

Rukia would have found the woman's reaction comical had it not been for the serious nature of their discussion. She sighed once again and shrugged, "But it seems like our incident with Yammy got around to most of the drug lords in the city, we haven't been able to find one since."

Orihime shook her head sadly, "I'm so sorry, I know how badly you wanted to find that Tousen guy." She offered a half-smile and said, "Do you have any other leads?"

Rukia shook her head, "No. Ichigo and I are working on it, continually canvassing, taking in reports, looking up old and similar cases, stuff like that, but we can't seem to find anything." She growled and ran a hand through her hair, "But at least he hasn't killed again. That's a relief."

Orihime nodded and shuffled her feet from one side to the next. Her eyes glanced to the ground and she whispered, "Not yet."

Rukia blinked once and raised her head to Orihime's. The woman's face was covered in worry, her eyes looked like pools of dramatic concern; there was also the tiny grace of fear in her gaze. A fear that, to Rukia, seemed strange and uncalled for.

She removed her shoulder from the wall and narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean, 'not yet'?"

The examiner continued to shuffle her feet, looking from one end of the room to the other. "I-I'm just saying that… that it might help if you to well, stay out of the limelight for a while."

Rukia frowned, "The limelight? What do you—" she stopped speaking and turned her inquiring eyes into a hard glare. "You think I'm going to be murdered next."

"Murdered is such an ugly word," Orihime said distantly, looking around the room and staring up at the fluorescent lights. "I prefer killed, it has that nice, hard, 'k' sound."

"Whatever," Rukia snorted, turning around and beginning to pace the room, "Great, thanks for having faith in me."

The medical examiner continued staring at the lights, "Its not that I don't have faith in you," she said softly, "Its just that I don't think you have superhuman powers that will let you withstand a bullet to the head."

The detective snorted but didn't answer, her surly stance turning even more depressed.

Orihime sighed and snapped her mask back into place, "Come," she said cheerfully—such a different tone from the one she had been using the moment before—beckoning to Rukia. "Hand me a scalpel."

Orihime positioned herself on the other side of the examining table—and thus the other side of the body—before looking up expectantly at Rukia. She smiled through the mask and motioned for her to come over. Begrudgingly, the detective shuffled over and grabbed a tiny scalpel, twirling it in her hands before passing it to Orihime.

Rukia watched as Orihime lifted the sheet and began to slice open various parts of the victim, gently moving aside flesh and extracting pieces of—what seemed to be—rusted metal.

Rukia's insides squirmed as she thought about the six hundred year old katana that had been shoved into her brother's body.

"You should at least stay somewhere safe."

The detective lifted her head, tearing her eyes away from the decapitated body before her. "What?"

"Do you have cheese in your ears?" Orihime teased playfully, "I said, you should stay somewhere safe."

Rukia blinked twice, cheese in her what? She shook her head and forgot the impractical comment, turning her attention back to Orihime. "Why would I need to stay somewhere safe?"

The woman giggled, "For your birthday, silly." She cut open another slice of human, "You should stay somewhere safe for your birthday. Maybe just the day before, the day of, and the day after. Just to be sure." She blinked at Rukia. "Do you have any family around? You wouldn't want to be away from your work all that long I presume?"

"You presume correctly," Rukia said clearly, "But no, I don't have any family around here. Or anywhere for that matter." She paused for a moment and frowned, "Except for a distant uncle, but he's always sick and in the hospital… at the other end of the country." She shrugged, "Still sends me cards on holidays though."

Orihime set the scalpel down on the table and cocked her head to the side, "Okay, so we cross him out… What about your friend Renji?"

Rukia shook her head, "No, Momo Hinamori moved in with him last month. I wouldn't want to _intrude_." She spat disgustedly.

Orihime pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You could stay with me. If you wanted to, that is."

Rukia raised her eyebrows to the woman in front of her. "Um, Orihime… I don't want to seem rude, but ah," she paused and ran a hand through her hair, "Ishida… how often does he stay over? Or… how often do you stay over at his place?"

The red-head shifted a piece of hair away from her eyes, "Good point." She muttered chirpily. "I wouldn't want you to walk in on us…"

"Again." Rukia added dryly.

"Yes…" Orihime said, "Again…" she tapped a well-manicured finger to her chin and thought. Rukia didn't really see the point in having her continue, she knew for a fact she wasn't going anywhere the weekend of her birthday. If the enemy wanted to come to her front door, well, that was fine with her, she'd be waiting with a loaded pistol…

And some kitchen knives, she thought wickedly.

So engrained in their thoughts, neither woman noticed the squeak of the swinging door as it creaked open or the gentle footsteps of the person behind them.

Orihime frowned, "Well, you should stay somewhere," she said softly, "We don't want you to die."

Rukia sighed contentedly and continued staring out into space, "I wouldn't worry about it," she said, her voice coming out more breezily than expected. "I'm quite prepared."

Orihime raised her head, "But you should still go somewhere sa—oh! Ichigo, good morning!"

Rukia's head snapped up immediately and her legs began to back up—it was a reflex now ingrained in her mind, if Ichigo was there, back away, no questions asked. What she hadn't noticed was that Ichigo was standing right behind her; hence she ended up slamming into his hard-as-a-rock chest. Her eyes wide, she tried to move to the side but felt a strong and masculine grip on the upper half of her arm.

"Whoa," Ichigo's wickedly dark voice said from behind, "Steady now." He pushed her slightly off of his chest but kept his hand to her bicep. "Now, Orihime, what was it you were saying about a place to stay?"

Rukia's eyes went wide and she debated whether or not she should shake her head emphatically at the medical examiner, desperately advising her not to say another word to the god now standing behind her. If she did, Orihime might think something was going on and press her to tell her. Then what would happen? Rukia inwardly groaned, she'd be done for. In the end she kept her head still while making a mental note to kill Ichigo when she had the chance.

Orihime grinned at Ichigo and clapped her gloved hands together, "Well, Ichigo, I was thinking, since Rukia's birthday is coming up she should stay somewhere other than her house in order for her to be safer. Because you know, if this serial killer knows anything about the people from the two eight—even though she's more like a detective from the three one right now—he would definitely know where she lives. I offered to let her stay at my house, but I'm kind of… _occupied_ with Ishida and she doesn't want to go to Renji's because Momo Hinamori is there and, well… we just don't know what to do!"

"I can get a motel," Rukia said swiftly, feeling the hand on her arm slide away, only to be placed near her jean-encased bottom.

"But then how would you be protected?" Orihime whimpered, furrowing her eyes with worry and pouting her bottom lip. "He could follow you!"

"He won't, Orihime, I assure you." Rukia said, bracing her hands on the examining table, only a bit away from the decapitated man. "I can take care of myself."

"So could Matsumoto," Ichigo said clearly, shrugging one of his shoulders as the other hand casually brushed the base of her ass. Her eyes widened slightly and she felt goose bumps ripple on her skin. "So could Yumichika, so could Nanao, so could your brother for that matter." His hand slipped into her back pocket. "But they were caught and killed."

Rukia shifted her head to the side and glared at him, "Thanks for the reminder." She swallowed thickly as she felt Ichigo's fingers arch and become slight claws. He raked them against the inside of pocket and seared the skin underneath.

"I'm not trying to remind you," Ichigo said brusquely as his fingers proceeded to pluck at her clothes and rub against her skin. "I'm merely saying that we need to be careful."

"_We_?" Rukia demanded, trying to jerk her hips out of the way without Orihime noticing anything suspicious.

"You!" The medical examiner cried. She grinned goofily and clapped her hands together. "That's it!" She did a little twirl around herself and giggled. "You can stay with Ichigo!"

Rukia's face drained of blood. "I can _what_?" She asked.

Orihime smiled prettily, "You can stay with Ichigo!" Her eyes swept from one detective to the other, noticing that one looked petrified while the other looked intrigued. "He doesn't live with anyone else, he doesn't have any pets—you know, in case you're allergic, he doesn't smoke, and he can protect you! It's perfect!"

"No, it's not." Rukia said, shaking her head emphatically.

"Actually," Ichigo said from behind her, his hand had long ago slipped from her pocket and slid up to the waistline of her jeans, it took all of her resolve for Rukia not to turn tail and run.

Or moan.

"That does sound like a good idea." He smiled at Orihime and said, "Nice thinking."

The red-head grinned and turned to talk to Ichigo, "Why don't you talk to the Lou about it? And I'm sure that you can be a gentleman and take the couch if you have only one bed."

Ichigo smiled softly and slipped his hand down Rukia's jeans, under her panties, and teased the smooth skin of her ass. Her eyes widened as he squeezed her cheek hungrily. "Of _course_ I'd be a gentleman." He smiled down at Rukia and saw the flush in her face. "Aren't I always?"

-------

"I'm not staying with you," Rukia said sternly as she followed Ichigo out of Orihime's office and up the steps. He remained silent and simply continued walking, not even acknowledging Rukia's all-to-apparent presence behind him.

She frowned at him and wondered if he had even heard her. "I'm not."

He didn't say anything else, he just and kept walking, and unless her ears were working improperly, she could swear she was hearing him whistling softly. Rukia's temper flared as she followed him angrily. What was irritating her the most was the fact that she couldn't follow him too closely. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of what might happen should she encroach upon his reach.

The past few weeks had been nothing short of sexually frustrating for Rukia, not only had Ichigo kept his "arms-length" promise of touching her whenever he could, but he had been doing it with such aptitude that half of the time Rukia felt like she might concede to her ill-fated desires.

His favorite thing he loved to do to her was to sneak up behind her and press a swift kiss onto her neck; she knew that he could see what effect it had on her whenever he did it. A thin shudder would always run down her spine and her cheeks would always heat in a torrential blush.

But that wasn't the only thing he did… not by a long shot. Whenever he could, he would touch her lightly on the arm, brush a stray lock of hair from her face, rub his leg against hers, or—on the rare occasions he was actually able to catch her fully—kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

He had only been able to do it twice—kiss her that is—since their completely voluntary oral exploration at the docks. The first time he had cornered her immediately after she had gone into break room, pushed her against the copier, and dove down to assault her mouth. She had been so caught by surprise that all she could do was lean against the obdurate machine and moan.

He had worked his expert tongue so well that she ended up grappling his shirt and pulling him closer. Not to mention that she just knew, when she felt that upward curl of his lips, he was smirking against her pliant mouth as he coaxed his hand down to squeeze her ass. She had almost given in to him completely when she realized that anyone could choose that exact moment to walk into the room and see what they were doing. That, of course, would result in rumors, embarrassment, and all out humiliation…

Either way, Rukia had placed her hands squarely on Ichigo's chest, pushed him away and proceeded to rush out of the break room.

However, it later became apparent that Ichigo Kurosaki was a man who did not take rejection in stride, and the second time he had kissed her well… it had been deadlier, hotter, and downright sexier. She had barely been able to escape.

It happened after he had driven her home one night from work, he was in the front seat and she was reluctantly sitting in the passenger side. She would have preferred the back—seeing how Ichigo liked to stroke her thigh whenever she sat next to him—but seeing as the back compensated door handles for steel mesh bars, she had decided to sit in the front and swat at his hand whenever it came near.

Eerily enough, Ichigo didn't even touch her throughout the ride, he only sat in his seat, smirking like an overindulged child.

They had come to her house without a hitch and Rukia immediately bolted out of the car. She took her keys from her pocket and instantly fumbled for the right one. She had almost gotten it when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, a mouth chuckle beside her ear, and a dark warning slip through Ichigo's lips.

"You didn't think you'd get off that easily, did you?"

Just like that he had flipped her around and pressed her against the wall; her spine cracked slightly as she banged onto the brick. Ichigo protected the back of her head with his hand but the moment she was pinned to the building he pulled her body flush against his and attacked her mouth with the hunger of a starving man.

Rukia didn't even have time to object. He kissed her like he always did: he had such energy and such power fueling his oral assault that her will completely collapsed, her eyes fluttered shut, and her toes curled in her shoes. He used his lips to stroke her mouth, drawing her bottom half into him and sucking so diligently that she couldn't help but open to him.

But that wasn't anything compared to what his hands were doing. Hell, she could hardly focus on their mouths when his fingers were doing such pleasurable things to her skin. He had brought his right hand to her waist and grappled her tightly. His fingers pulled out her securely tucked shirt and within seconds he had yanked it out vigorously. The moment she had felt his calloused hands touch the skin directly below her rib cage her eyes dilated and her lungs sucked all of the air completely out of him. He wasted no more time and immediately slid his hand upwards, rubbing his fingers against any part of her skin that he could reach.

He kept moving up and up until his thumb ran over her stiffened nipple she jerked against him. Driven by her enticing reaction his entire hand clasped over her breast and began to rub sensually. The friction was unbelievable as he touched her through the silky lace of her thin bra.

Rukia felt the wetness pooling inside of her legs as the hardness of Ichigo's erection ground itself against her body. He was pushing against her, gyrating his hips in response to hers, which were jerking mindlessly against him.

She felt so helpless when he had her trapped like this. Everything inside of her screamed to let him take her—on her bed, directly on her carpet, or hell, even against this wall. She wanted to drag him upstairs by his cock, throw him down onto the floorboards, and proceed to fuck him senseless on the floor of her foyer. Everything inside was telling her to forget the rules, to live for a day, and to take this God-given opportunity by the horns and ride it until she was complete.

She had almost been about to break too; hell, he was rubbing and cupping her breasts—he had started to grope both of them, each of his hands wrecking havoc on her body—with such hunger and ease she had simply wondered how his hands would act if she allowed them access the rest of her body.

By that time Ichigo had removed his mouth from hers and was burning a hot trail down the line of her throat, his hands had still not moved from her breasts. In fact, it seemed as if his plan was to suckle her right here, on the side of the street. She had leaned her neck to the side and moaned as his hand rubbed the base of her breast and his fingers slipped inside the silken lace.

She didn't remember if she cried his name or not when his thumb deliciously pressed against the hardened tip of her nipple, but something must have echoed off of the walls of the complex. But she did know that she moaned and she kept moaning when his mouth reached her collar bone and his hand caressed her. What he was doing, however, was short lived, only moments later the door beside them clicked, opened slowly, and the elderly owner of her apartment building appeared at the door to blindly peer at them.

In less than a second Ichigo was pushed off of her, his body practically rolling down the steps, and Rukia was apologizing to Mr. Shimizu—the nearly-blind landlord who took Rukia's rent each month. She simply hoped that the shriveled old man had been far enough away that he hadn't seen anything.

Mr. Shimizu, apparently, hadn't even seen Ichigo grunting up from the concrete sidewalk, rubbing his backside and trying to ease the throbbing in his crotch at the same time. He had simply given Rukia a toothless smile and beckoned her inside the building, telling her that she'd catch a cold if she were out for too long and offering to pour her a cup of sake while he told her stories from his experience in the Second World War.

Rukia hadn't even looked back at Ichigo as she raced up the steps, thanked but refused Mr. Shimizu, rushed into her house, and threw her deadbolt into place on her door.

It took her seven minutes of leaning and panting against the doorframe for her heart to stop racing, her breasts to stop tingling, and her legs to stop shaking. It took even longer for the hot center between her legs to stop pooling with liquid desire.

So much for opportunity.

Rukia continued to blush as she followed Ichigo at the established length they had previously agreed upon… well, he had agreed upon it anyway, she hadn't really had any choice in the matter. She could see where he was going now and her face burned at the thought. He was going to talk to Kenpachi. He was going to make him order her to stay with Ichigo for _safety's_ safe.

"Ichigo," she called to him, weaving her way in between multiple desks and telephone wires, "Ichigo, seriously, I'm not going to stay with you. You can't just make me—hey! Are you listening to me? Ichigo… Ichigo!"

He was still ignoring her. Ignoring her and her ever rising temper. "Jesus Christ!" She cried, successfully gaining the attention of many people in the precinct, "Would you stop being such a son of a bitch and just listen?"

They had reached the lieutenant's office. Ichigo turned his head to the side, grabbed the knob with his right hand, and smirked evilly at her. Rukia's blood heated at the very sight of his arrogant grin and his devilish eyes. Christ he was beautiful…

…Not that she was still thinking of things like that. Far from it. She didn't have those thoughts at all.

Well, unless she counted the wet dreams she was having with increasing frequency. All of those involved her, completely naked, lying on a precinct desk while Ichigo's head worked furiously between her spread thighs. She shuddered at the thought and wondered if Ichigo had the same thoughts.

He must have seen her shiver because in the next moment he drew up his left hand and dropped it squarely on her shoulder, exceedingly close to the neck of her high-cut shirt. Rukia gulped slightly and felt his toughly padded thumb rub the hollow of her throat. He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow. "Just wait here."

With that he jerked the door open, slipped inside, and shut the damn thing before she was even able to protest, much less get inside.

"Hey!" She shouted, coming forward swiftly and banging her palm flat against the door as she heard the lock click into place. No one inside answered and she shouted again. She kept on banging her palm against the door until she heard Kenpachi's voice on the other end of the room scream at her to shut up.

Grouchily, she leaned her back against the door and waited.

-------

Kenpachi glowered at Ichigo and snarled, "Unless you have something relevant to tell me about the case you're _supposed_ to be working on, I really don't want to hear about it." He rolled his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead. "I'm mentally preparing myself for my five-year-olds' ballet recital."

Ichigo paused for a moment and tried to imagine his thick-skinned lieutenant sitting at a ballet recital, watching several tiny girls in tutu's prance around a stage like little ponies. The image was almost enough to make him want to either urinate in his pants from laughter or throw up from the horror.

He drew in a deep breath and shook his head—anything to get those images out of his brain. "Actually, it's a concern I have about Kuchiki."

"The dead one or the one that's still a pain in the ass?" He asked, sounding as if he was already bored with the conversation.

"The pain in the ass," Ichigo clarified, he inclined his head towards the door and shrugged, "I think she might be the next one on the list."

Kenpachi sighed dramatically and tilted his head, "Why is that?"

"Her birthday is January 14th," Ichigo said, "Her brothers' was the 31st. I'm thinking that the killer wanted to start with a Kuchiki and end with a Kuchiki." He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "Other than that, we can't seem to get anything on this guy. We can't pin down any drug dealer that links to the cocaine and the partial shoe print that was found at Nanao's murder… well, Hanatarou said it was a custom made shoe imported all the way from Italy, but we can't track down the maker because it was probably just some guy from a local market in some invisible town in the Alps." He drew in a breath and paused, "Or something like that…"

Kenpachi rolled his eye. "What does that have to do with Kuchiki?"

"I want her to be put in some sort of protective custody." Ichigo said forcefully, knowing that his boss would never agree to what he was asking if he spoke in a pansy voice.

Kenpachi let out a chuckle, "Now, let's see, Kurosaki, if we don't even have the man-power to give you some extra help in the serial murder of four_ police detectives_, what makes you think you'd get anymore than the bare minimum?"

"I wasn't asking for a police detail and a four star hotel in the country." He answered nastily, "I'm just thinking that for the day before, the day of, and the day after her birthday, we should keep her under close surveillance."

"And who would be watching her?" The Lou sighed.

Ichigo let his mouth warp itself into a sadistic grin. "I would be watching her."

Kenpachi raised his hand and lifted his eye patch, revealing both watchful and piercing eyes. "Now, this wouldn't have anything to do with you groping her all the time, would it?"

Ichigo raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you don't." Kenpachi smirked and sighed. "Listen Kurosaki, I can see it plain as day that you two have a little _thing_ for each other." He gave him a hard look. "But if you want to make me tell her to stay at your place so she can be—what was the word you used?—oh yeah… _safe_, then you're going to have to swear to me that you'll keep any and all parts of your body off of hers."

Ichigo blinked at his boss and titled his head to the side, "What if she doesn't want me to keep my body parts to myself?"

Kenpachi replaced the eye patch and shrugged, "Then by all means." He sighed and stood from his desk. "I gotta go; I need to get ready for a very abridged version of _Swan Lake_."

Ichigo recoiled and shuddered visibly. "I feel extremely sorry for you."

Kenpachi groaned, "I just want to see if I can actually make it through the performance without killing myself."

Ichigo shrugged a bit and nodded towards his boss, "But can you tell Kuchiki before you go to the, ah, _performance_?"

Kenpachi glanced at Ichigo when he jiggled the locked doorknob. He simply shrugged at his boss and indicated to the other side. Kenpachi sighed and swung the door open. He immediately moved to the side as Rukia's leaning body stumbled into the office. She yelped a bit and cursed some more but managed to straighten before she fell completely to the ground.

"Kuchiki," the Lou said in a cool greeting.

She brushed off her pants and breathed heavily, "Good… morning." She said briskly, clearing her throat and shaking some hair from her face. She was ready to speak when she glanced over to her side and checked her distance from Ichigo. He smirked at her and quirked one of those sexy eyebrows up nearer to his hairline. Rukia suppressed a shudder that ran through her spine as she forced herself to look back at her pseudo-boss.

"Kenpachi," she said swiftly, stepping forward a bit to give her words more power, "I just wanted to tell you that—"

The lieutenant shook his head and cut her off before she could even get started. He looked from Ichigo to his partner and said, "I agree with Kurosaki, Detective Kuchiki, you're staying at his house. Three days. The day before, of, and after your birthday. You'll be under constant surveillance so I don't want you coming into work or doing anything remotely resembling police work."

Rukia's eyes widened with each work that came out of Kenpachi's mouth and when her eyes became too large her mouth took up the rest of the work.

"W-What?" She sputtered. "But I—you can't—no!"

Kenpachi smirked and shook his head, "Yes, actually, I can, and yes, you will. No discussions." He raised an eyebrow and snickered. "But don't worry, Kurosaki promised to be a gentleman."

He grinned from Rukia to Ichigo and then nodded at them both. "Now, if you'll excuse me… I need to go and see a certain Princess Odette."

He left the room in a dead silence, leaving the oak fixture slightly ajar. Rukia stood, gaping, as her boss exited the precinct. Her breath was coming out in short pants and her heart rate accelerated until she felt it pounding inside of her chest.

"Oh… God…" she groaned, placing a hand on her forehead and closing her eyes as if in pain. "Shit… shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…"

Ichigo raised his eyebrows and scooted a bit closer to her. "Are you finished?"

Her head jerked up and she immediately noticed his proximity, her body jolted away from his and she swallowed heavily. "I can't believe you did that."

Ichigo sighed and shook his head. He took two heavy steps towards her and planted himself directly above her upturned face. He knew that he could reach out and touch her at the moment but right now… right now he needed to make this clear to her.

"Let me put it this way Rukia," he said plainly, "I would rather have you alive and well at my house for three days, while I suffered through near constant erections, than have you lying dead on your floor, a bullet in your brain."

Rukia sucked in her breath and backed away from him slowly. "You've got to promise… you've got to promise me…"

Ichigo sighed and shook his head softly, "I swore to the Lou that I'd keep any part of my body off of you… but only if you wanted me to."

Rukia felt an iron hand clench around her stomach. She swallowed convulsively and tried to open her mouth to speak.

Her mind was screaming that what he swore to the Lou was what he would swear to her as well, but her mouth… Jesus, her mouth. It was forming words it had no business forming in the first place. She didn't want to become intimate with Ichigo… she needed the distance… she needed… she needed…

She needed to feel him pushing into her, consuming her, touching her breasts, squeezing her thighs, and biting her neck.

"I—I—" she sputtered, her hand rising to be placed on her battered heart.

She began to breathe harshly and was surprised when Ichigo came forward, only to press his hands onto her shoulders and whisper. "You don't have to have an answer Rukia. Never an answer… just desire. Because I know you feel it too."

He offered her a small smile and leaned down, softly, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and sighed.

As he exited the office, Rukia could feel her muddled insides begin to heat and curl. In truth, she wasn't exactly sure what it was she desired.


	12. The Line

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Wow, I feel really special now. **

**I love all the reviews I've been left. Also, sorry I didn't review much to the last batch of reviews. I accidentally erased them from my email. Sorry!**

**ENJOY AND REVIEW!!!)**

**Chapter 11**

Ichigo looked up from his set of papers and casually glanced over at Rukia. Her hair was falling near the top of her desk and her eyes were hooded by her eyelashes. He knew she was tired, he could see the purple shadows that were exposed under the pale skin of her cheeks. Casually, he glanced at his watch and saw it was nearly six. Jesus, how long was she going to stay here? It was Christmas Eve for god's sake! Didn't she have somewhere to be? Church? Home? A restaurant? She wasn't going to work on Christmas, was she?

"Rukia," he said softly.

She raised her head slowly before blinking twice and searching his face, as if looking for any hint of a trick hidden in the skin of his cheeks or the fine hairs of his eyebrows. She cleared her throat and shook a bit of hair out of her face.

"Yes?" She asked. Her voice was a bit weak but there was still the sharply biting edge in her tone he had grown to relish.

"Aren't you going home?" He asked her, leaning forward just a bit and resting his elbows on their desk. "Or to a restaurant… or church…?"

Her brows furrowed and she gave him a strange glare. "No… why?"

Ichigo scoffed slightly and stretched his spine languorously, "Because, you idiot, Christmas is tomorrow."

"Doesn't mean I have to do actually do anything." She replied nastily, thumbing through a few more papers.

"Christmas was created so people could celebrate," he said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning obnoxiously.

"Really?" She snorted, "I thought it had something to do with religion and the birth of a savior." She smirked cattily and shook her head, "But you know, what the hell, gimme a shot and another couple of rounds of vodka and we can just forget all about tradition or religion."

Ichigo grinned, "Well I do believe Rukia Kuchiki just made a joke."

"Well I do believe Ichigo Kurosaki has a brain." She quipped.

Ichigo groaned and rolled his head back. Some days… talking to her was just futile.

Rukia went back to ignoring him as she scribbled away at her papers and tapped at the computer keyboard. Ichigo watched her as she wrote and poked, keeping her head down and her attention focused on the task at hand.

Inwardly chastising himself, Ichigo knew he should be the one doing most of their paperwork, seeing has how she was the one who was working like some type of paper-filing robot. Ichigo felt his inner wickedness die down inside and found himself—once again—looking at her.

It was more of a habit now than anything else—watching her, that is. He just liked to _look_ at her, at the way she would bite her lower lip when reading a report or scowl while glancing at crime scene photos or even when she was typing, her delicate fingers touching the plastic keys with such ease and efficiency. Every simple movement she made was like she was making it just so his eyes could watch her.

It made him wonder what would happen if those fingers and that mouth ran over his entire body…

Ichigo blinked quickly and immediately looked down at his pants, cursing the slight bulge pressing against the front of them. Good thing he stopped those treacherous thoughts before they had gone any further. He might have had to bury himself in his desk for an hour get to rid of the damn near persistent erection.

Ichigo raised his arm once again and looked at the blinking lights on his digital watch. Sighing once again he pushed back his chair—careful not to bump into anyone else's in the process—and proceeded to slide his arms through the sleeves in his coat.

"Get up," he commanded softly to Rukia, who had raised her eyes at his abrupt movements.

"What?" She asked, "Why?"

"Because," he said clearly, bracing his hands on the desk and grinning at his partner, his face only a few inches from hers, "I'm taking you to dinner."

Rukia's steel-grey eyes hardened even more. "You are not."

"I beg to differ," Ichigo replied, "Come on, it's Christmas Eve and you and I have nothing better to do than just sit around and do—"

"Our jobs?" She finished for him, snapping a folder shut on her desk and standing up. She came nose to nose with Ichigo—as he was still leaning over and about half of his original height—and began to growl. "Besides, I wouldn't want to go anywhere with you."

Ichigo's smirk turned into a slick grin, "What if I promise for tonight not to touch, grope, grab, suck, kiss, or rub any part of your body?" He leaned forward just a bit more. "Would that work for you?"

Rukia eyed him suspiciously, her astonishing eyes narrowed into a glare of distrust. "Then what will _you_ get out of it?"

Ichigo grinned, his handsome features twisting in amusement, "Why, Rukia, I get the stimulating pleasure of your company."

"No thank you," she said coldly, turning around and placing the files in the alphabetized cabinet.

"It's Italian," he told her, emphasizing the last word with an upward inflection. He watched as her spine stiffened and she turned around to glare at him.

"That's low." She said.

Ichigo shrugged, "Hey, whatever works."

Rukia's lungs heaved a heavy sigh and she turned to him glaringly. "So long as you keep your promise and don't… _do_ anything." She held out her hand to him and narrowed her eyes. "Are we clear?"

"Clear as crystal." Ichigo said as he grasped her hand in his, he gripped it tightly as they shook and wondered what her reaction would be if he pulled her towards him and started kissing her.

_She'd probably pull out her gun and shoot me in the face._ He thought as he released his fingers from hers.

Without another word to him, Rukia strode over to the coat rack and pulled down her newly acquired navy blue jacket, she quickly tugged it around her shoulders and then added the now-infamous bunny scarf—which she promptly wrapped around her neck. Stuffing her hands inside of her pockets she turned to Ichigo and raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said, "Where's my food?"

Ichigo shook his head and sighed softly as he pushed past her and headed for the door, grabbing his keys in the process, "You're never going to change."

"Nope," Rukia said, "Not anytime soon."

Ichigo opened the door to the precinct and felt the blisteringly cold air blast against his unprotected face. His eyes immediately watered as the wind continued to whip around him but he stayed until Rukia came out of the precinct and stood beside him. The entire bottom half of her face was covered by her bunny-scarf, the rest was beginning to pink with cold. Her hair was whipping fiercely into her face as well and Ichigo wondered if it stung.

"Come on," she told him, her voice muffled by the scarf, "I want my plate of chicken marsala."

Ichigo snorted into the wind and watched as his breath transformed into a tiny puff of smoke. "Alright, alright, come on. I know this great place near the edge of the city…"

As Ichigo led Rukia to the car he couldn't help but reflect on what he had said to her earlier. "_You're never going to change._"

No… she wasn't.

And he was glad.

-------

Ichigo didn't know why he had thought to bring Rukia to an Italian restaurant. Seriously, if he got a semi-hard on simply by looking at her, he should have expected to get a complete boner just by watching her eat.

Ichigo swallowed with discomfort while he looked at her slip a strand of freshly made spaghetti through her pursed lips. _She must have some type of blessing on her body, that must be it_, Ichigo thought—almost helplessly. To be so… _sexy_ in everything she did—from typing on a keyboard to simply eating a piece of spaghetti. She was the very _definition_ of sexual potency. Everything she did, every image she put into his head, every single fucking goddamn thing was making him think of spreading her out on the table, dripping spaghetti sauce onto her naked body, and then licking it all from her skin.

Rukia looked up from her dish and cocked an eyebrow, "Something wrong?" She nodded at his plate, "You've hardly touched your food."

Ichigo swallowed and cleared his throat before he shook his head and offered a half-grin. "No, I'm fine. It's just hot."

Rukia blinked at him.

He cleared his throat again and said, "The food. I meant that the food is hot."

"Oh," Rukia said, "Well, it's been sitting there for almost five minutes. It should be cool right now."

Ichigo shook his head and picked up his fork, "Sorry, I just… never mind. How's your marsala?"

Rukia took another bite and sighed softly, "Heavenly." She said after she swallowed, "I don't know how I didn't know about this place beforehand."

Ichigo took a bite of his plate of fettuccini and almost crooned at the buttery taste of each noodle. He swallowed and replied, "Do you scope out all the Italian restaurants you can and make a map?"

She nodded, "Something like that. But I've never heard of this place, it has a very homey feel, not to mention the food is delicious."

Ichigo nodded and took a minute to glance around the restaurant he knew so well. The place was a clutter of plants, lights, and terra cotta sculptures reminiscent of famous Italian artists. The air was thick with the heady aromas of sumptuous food and the smell of burning firewood from its place near the corner. All around them large men with rotund bellies and tight suits were laughing merrily with their friends and family. They sat at great tables laden with all types of pasta, meat, and fish, biting and savoring each little morsel they consumed.

Ichigo smiled and glanced at the table at which he and Rukia were sitting. It was a small thing, intimate even. There was a cheap but cute red-and-white checked tablecloth covering the tiny surface and between their two plates was a small crystal vase holding a single rose in the center.

From where he was sitting, the head of the rose was directly below Rukia's chin and hid a large portion of her creamy neck from his view. He sighed and took another bite of his fettuccini. He couldn't deny that he was hoping she would forget her stubborn resistance tonight and come home with him.

But he doubted it.

"So," Rukia said casually, continuing to devour her meal, "I guess I should talk to you, since you are feeding me."

"Perhaps," he replied, a slight laugh in his voice.

"Alright then," she sighed, "There is something I've wanted to know for a while."

"And that is?"

"Why did you become a detective?" She asked, reaching in front of her and taking a sip of her glass of red wine. "I mean, from what I read in your files you received top grades at the university, why did you decide to become a detective?"

Ichigo grinned wickedly, "You know, if you wanted to get to know me a lot better, you didn't have to read my file. You would just have to—"

"Please," she interrupted, "Spare me." She glared at him and sighed, "Let's just try and be civil for tonight, okay?"

"Fine, fine, fine," he took another bite of fettuccini. "Well, I became one because of my dad."

"Really? What did he do?"

Ichigo's eyes cast themselves down for a minute before he smiled warmly. For some reason, there was a soft, sorrowful look on his face. "He was a street cop. Best in the bunch. But when my mom died he quit, he said it was too dangerous to be out there when he had three kids at home."

"Wait," Rukia stopped him by holding up her fork and pointing it at his chest, "You have siblings?"

"Yeah," he continued, "My sisters, Karin and Yuzu, they're twins." 

"Oh," Rukia put her fork down and continued scraping her plate clean of any remnants of food.

"He left the force and became a general practitioner. It took a few more years and most of his pension but soon enough he became one of the most well-liked and well-respected doctors in the area." Ichigo paused and swallowed his last bite of pasta.

"What happened to him?" Rukia asked softly, her voice was calm and quiet—soothing when compared to her usual brash and harsh tone.

"One of the guys he once caught on a drug bust more than a decade before came into the clinic one day and killed him. Shot him three times and left." Ichigo shook his head and put one of his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes still had that faraway look and Rukia found that she didn't like it at all.

"I'm so sorry." She said lamely. She grasped her glass of red wine and took a deliberate sip. She let the liquid sit on her tongue for a minute before swallowing—reveling in the stinging sensation of alcohol. But really, what else could she say to well… comfort him?

_This must be how people feel when they talk to me about my brother_, she thought grimly. _How ironic._

"It's okay," Ichigo said quietly, "It was almost ten years ago." He shook his head, "But I just thank God every day that I was the one who came home first." He paused, "My sisters didn't need to see that."

"No one should need to see something like that," Rukia told him. For a minute, she thought of reaching over the table and taking his hand into hers. She shook the thoughts away and settled for nodding sympathetically.

Ichigo shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "It's okay. It was what happened to my dad that made me want to become a cop. I worked so fucking hard to get where I am now. Sometimes I wouldn't sleep for days."

"Did you ever find him?" She asked. "The man who shot your father?"

Ichigo nodded. "He's doing two life sentences in solitary confinement." He shrugged and smirked, "I would have wanted the needle but the jury voted for what he has now."

"Juries…" Rukia snorted softly, "Sometimes you love 'em, sometimes you hate 'em."

"Yeah well… when we catch the guy who killed your brother… I'm going to make sure that Hitsugaya gives him an entire cocktail of needles."

Rukia let out a dark chuckle, "Yeah. I swear, Toushiro is short and young, but he's the best D.A. we've had in a _long_ time."

"I agree. Did you know that he is actually some kind of boy genius? I heard he went to Harvard when he was twelve." Ichigo told her, a small smile covering half of his face.

"God," Rukia said, taking a sip of her wine. "I just thought he was vertically challenged or something. I never knew he was a boy genius."

"But you'd think he was thirty by the way he acts." Ichigo shook his head, "I feel really sorry for him, going to college at twelve must have done some permanent damage to his social life."

Rukia nodded and drained the contents of her wine glass. She set it on the table and proceeded to toy with the stem. She and Ichigo lapsed into silence, comforted by the weight of food in their stomachs and—in Rukia's case—the alcohol soothing away the troubled feelings swirling around her head.

_This is what it's supposed to be_, Ichigo thought warmly, _just us, sitting together, eating good food, and just talking._ He raised his eyes to her face and just sat there a moment, staring at her—to which he was now accustomed to doing. She looked so content and peaceful.

Ichigo marveled at the beauty of her face but felt a single, troubling thought pass through his mind. The only thing she wasn't doing, even though he was actually trying quite hard to press one out of her… was smiling.

Ichigo frowned a bit and, on what he called a whim, reached up to cup her cheek. Rukia started but didn't move away as Ichigo ran his callused thumb over her pink bottom lip. Christ, how long had it been since he kissed her last? It felt like fucking ages. Damn it if this table wasn't the only thing that was keeping him away from her.

He saw her swallow convulsively and scoot her head back just a bit. "Y-You promised," she said hoarsely, clearing her throat at the last minute, "Remember?"

Ichigo didn't move his hand as he blinked slowly and cocked his head to the side, as if contemplating what to do next. "Yes…" he murmured, "I remember." His thumb, as if it had a mind of its own, ran over her bottom lip this time, feeling some moisture rub against the pad of his finger.

"Then… then…" she muttered.

"Don't worry," Ichigo sighed, removing his hand from her face and pressing his thumb against his own lips. "I promise I won't do anything else." He let out an exasperated breath and groaned, he rubbed a hand over his face and glared slightly at her, "Because I swear to God girl, if you don't start participating… well, I just wouldn't want to rape you is all."

Rukia's eyes widened and the bottom half of her mouth opened slightly. "You _what_?"

"Hey," he said, raising his hands in defense, "I just said I _didn't _want to."

"But you would," she demanded, "You said you didn't want to so that would be your moral objective. Your carnal object would be, in fact, to rape me."

Ichigo chuckled and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "Honey, I'm sure lots of men think about doing what they will to you." He pulled out the bills and set them on the table. "Just be happy to know that I'd kill them or put them in prison before they'd even get to touch you."

"Oh, I get it, so I'm yours now, is that it?" Rukia snorted and stood when he did. "Great to know that I'm just a piece of property."

They put on their coats and thanked their waitress as the two exited into the cold night air. Rukia scowled and wound her scarf around her neck as they walked out towards the car. Gingerly, she made sure that her mouth and nose was covered by the bunny-covered contraption. Ichigo almost growled when he saw what she was wearing.

_I guess I could pull it off_, he thought, sighing mentally.

"Woman," he said clearly, his breath puffing out in front of him, "You have a will made of iron."

"Just because I don't want to sleep with you." She stated dryly. "Let me tell you, _Kurosaki_, there are other things in this world besides you that can make me act stubborn, it's not just you."

Ichigo rounded to the driver's side of the car and clicked open the door, glaring at his partner. "Didn't you learn your lesson about my name _last_ time?"

Rukia glared at him but ignored the comment, she followed Ichigo inside and sat, shivering, on the seat..

"My God it's cold," Rukia said. Her hand reached out and she fiddled with the dashboard knobs, turning them so the heat would come out at full blast.

Ichigo snorted as he started the car, "You know, if you'd just listen to me and let me take you back to my place, I doubt if you'd ever feel cold again."

Rukia's face flushed and she muttered, "Just drive me home, Ichigo."

There was silence between them for a moment before Ichigo grinned and shrugged his shoulders as he pulled out of the parking space. "Your place would work too."

"Would you just stop it!" She shouted. "Damn it Ichigo! You just don't get it!"

If he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road, Ichigo would have turned his head and glared at her, daring her to tell him what he didn't get. But since he was currently driving on an icy road in the dark he was forced to keep his gaze directly on the sheen of the pavement beneath him.

"From what I can tell," he said darkly, his voice turning from one of playful disagreement to one of deadly certainty. "We are both consenting adults who are exceedingly attracted to one another. From where I'm standing, you're the one who doesn't seem to get it."

"That's just like a guy," Rukia spat, "Talking with your dick instead of your brain."

"That's just like a woman," Ichigo countered, "Analyzing your emotions instead of actually feeling them."

"You don't understand," she said hotly, raising her hands and waving them emphatically to make a point. "There is a line, Ichigo, there's a line that I don't want to cross. There's you and there's me and there's the line. I don't want to go past that line and get into something I won't be able to stop."

"You should realize," he said growlingly, "That we've already gone past that line."

"Just stop it."

Ichigo turned into a free space in front of her apartment and parked the car. He stayed in his seat, gripping the wheel in anger and frustration. Rukia stayed where she was as well. Her hands were clenched in her lap and her knuckles were white. Neither of them said a word as the car continued to run, spewing warm air onto their already heated bodies. Little drops of sweat pooled onto Rukia upper lip but she ignored them, she simply sat in her seat and twisted her fingers.

"I hate you for making me feel like this." She said quietly, not even bothering to hide the distaste and disgust in her voice. "I hate it so much that all I want to do is this."

Ichigo twisted his head around and glared, angered that she should be so crass as to stop talking to him in the middle of a fucking sentence—stupid, he knew, but this night was just one stupid thing after another and—

The moment Ichigo turned his head he felt a small but strong hand grip the skin at the nape of his neck. He barely had time to say something—_anything _before he felt his mouth being pulled down, hard and fast.

And then she was kissing him, Rukia Kuchiki of all people in the world was kissing him. He knew it had to be some kind of mistake because Rukia Kuchiki didn't kiss people. She wasn't the kissing type. Sure he had kissed her before but during each one of those encounters she had never been the one to drag his mouth down to hers and dominate as she was doing now. She had never been the one to initiate a kiss that was so hot and heady that Ichigo felt himself growing drunk just because of it. Rukia Kuchiki did not kiss, she was kissed sure as hell, but she simply did not kiss.

So Ichigo simply sat there, both hands still clutching the steering wheel and his mouth frozen in place as Rukia's lips pressed against his. Even his eyes were open, he realized in a sudden spurt of horror, but goddamn it, she wasn't supposed to be doing this!

Except… Christ… he could see her face. Her beautiful face that was blushing profusely now, her eyes were closed and her lashes rested softly against the skin above her cheekbones.

Her lips were tugging at his, her breath caressing his skin as she pulled his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked lightly. He could feel her tongue as it traced his lip. Her fingers were gripping the back of his neck as if they were holding on for dear life.

_Holy fuck… she's kissing me._ He thought, his brain still not able to process what the hell was going on.

Suddenly, he felt the pressure on his neck go slack and the strokes of her tongue lessen. Her fingers had left his neck entirely and her mouth stroked his one last time before they abandoned them completely.

Her eyes opened and for the first time since he had become her partner, Ichigo saw the utmost hurt and sting inside of her deep, deep eyes.

"You see?" She said softly, her voice raw and rough, "Even then… we…"

She didn't get to say another word, because in the next second his hands had left the steering wheel and were grappling for her face. His fingers closed around her cheeks and yanked her to him so hard that her mouth was practically smashed against his. She let out a startled gasp but pulled her mouth open as soon as Ichigo's tongue swept across her closed lips.

Instantly, they were melded together. Mouth to mouth they were gasping, groaning, and touching anything that was in reach. Ichigo's hands grasped every inch of her hair that within his range. He was feeling the silken strands as they passed through his fingertips and moaned when her head arched back, giving him more access to her hot, sinning, mouth.

Then suddenly, that wasn't the only thing his body was touching. He didn't know what had happened to her, but Rukia was now taking charge of this entire kiss. He couldn't believe it…

But he sure as hell was enjoying it.

Rukia was now on top of him. She had—by some miracle—swung her legs over the gear-shift situated between them and planted each leg on either side of his hips. Her pelvis was now grinding into him as her hands grasped each side of his face. She was kissing him with such fervor and heat that he wondered if the woman above him really was Rukia Kuchiki.

She kept kissing him, pushing her heated center into his stiff-and-growing erection, and running her fingernails down his chest, making his skin stand at attention and practically scream.

And then his hands left her face and grasped her hips, when she came down he pulled down—_hard_. Her mouth ripped from his and she gasped at the intense feeling. Ichigo almost whined at the loss of her mouth but instead turned to her neck and attacked. Rukia didn't stop moving nor did Ichigo stop yanking. Both of them kept going, the car rocking back and forth with their ministrations.

Ichigo licked, bit, and sucked her neck. In the back of his mind he realized that he was actually going back on his word by doing all these things to her. It was wonderful and it was hot and it was delicious and it was terrible—all at once.

He panted into her neck and groaned, "Fuck, Rukia, I want you so badly."

Ichigo didn't know if it was what he said or the urgency with which he said it or even the way his hands were slowly making their way to the waistline of her jeans, his fingers completely intent on discovering which pair of panties she was wearing, but suddenly, her ministrations to his lower regions slowed, her fingers stopped with their exploration of his painfully-clothed chest, and her mouth stopped making so many breathy mewls.

"Rukia…" he said darkly, a solemn warning written over his face. "Don't… don't do this."

"I told you," she said, her voice a bit breathless but her mind apparently sane. "The line."

Ichigo's grip on her hips became painfully tight. "I don't care about the fucking line."

"I do."

"I don't."

"Ichigo, let me go." She said softly.

"You're making a mistake." He said, his voice was low and solid as she climbed off of him. He noticed how her eyes lingered on the erection pressing against his pants and if his instinct was to be believed, he saw hunger in every inch over her gaze.

She looked up at him and swallowed when she saw the dangerous way his face was shaped.

She didn't say another word as she drew in a shuddering breath and opened the car door. The cold wind blasted inside but it did nothing to cool the sweat running down Ichigo's heated body. He watched her as she opened the door to the complex and walked into her apartment. When he saw the light flip on he turned his head and peeled out of the street.

_Rukia, _he thought ruefully, _when I get through with you, there will be not even be room for a line._


	13. Living Outside the Line

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Hey guys, I'm really sorry I haven't updated for a while. This has been a really icky week. Life sucks.**

**Anyway, keep in mind that this chapter is 27 pages long. So here you go.**

**ATTENTION: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A LEMON, A VERY LONG, LONG, LONG, LONG LEMON. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY LEMONS IN ANY WAY DO NOT READ THIS.**

**So no flames please. Just keep that in mind.**

**ENJOY AND REVIEW!!!)**

**Chapter 12**

Rukia's phone rang beside her and she immediately picked it up. "Kuchiki." She answered in her sharp, perfunctory, voice.

"Hey," it was Renji. "How's it going?"

Rukia sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes swept the room for a moment, searching for an orange head of hair, but she saw nothing. Shrugging, her attention returned to the phone. "Nothing at the moment. You?"

"Paperwork."

"Joy." She answered blandly, not really in the mood to engage in a witty conversation with her friend. Well… as witty as Renji could be anyway.

There was a pause on the line, "So… where are you going tonight?"

Rukia immediately felt her cheeks heat and her mouth go dry. Quickly, she glanced around the precinct room and saw everyone else minding their own business. She leaned forward a bit in her chair and placed the phone closer to her ear. "You know where I'm going tonight. No doubt Orihime told Ishida and Ishida told everyone in the two eight."

There was another pause, "Yeah… yeah he did. Are you sure you're okay with it?"

Rukia swallowed heavily and nodded, even though Renji couldn't see it through the telephone line. "Yeah… we—he—promised to be a gentleman."

"Wait," he asked immediately, "A _gentleman_? Has he not been one so far?" The anger was growing in his voice and she could hear it quickening.

"Renji!" Rukia barked, "Shut up or I hang up." Her threat lingered in the air as she sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "Just don't worry about it, okay? I'll be fine."

"I know you will," Renji said, his voice laced with warning, "Just make sure that he keeps his distance, okay?"

A heated sensation curled in the pit of Rukia's stomach and she felt a groan try and escape her throat. Great… just great… once again, she was glad that Renji was miles away and not sitting beside her, lest he see her blushing face and glazed eyes.

"Rukia?"

She cleared her throat and sighed, "Yeah, Renji, I'll make sure he keeps away."

"Good," he said, the warning lessening in his tone, "Alright, I gotta go, but I'll see you later alright?"

"Right," she sighed, hoping she didn't sound too dejected, "See you later."

The phone clicked off and left the female detective with a dial tone searing the inside of her ear. She set it down gingerly and ended up crossing her arms on her desk, her neck lolling to the side of her head. She felt the gentle crick and sighed at it… when had she gotten the crick anyway? She had barely been sleeping; the damn annoyance shouldn't have been there at all.

_Maybe I got it from when I fell asleep on my computer keyboard._ She thought bemusedly. _Oh well…_

She heard heavy footsteps plodding around the precinct and didn't even have to look up to know that they belonged to the captain.

_Three… two… one…_

"Kuchiki!"

Rukia winced as her name resounded in the precinct and the captain began his thunderous walk towards her. God, didn't he have anything better to do than harass her about her upcoming stay at Kurosaki's apartment?

"Yes captain?" She asked, turning around in her seat and glowering.

"Where's Kurosaki? Your protective custody thing starts now!" Kenpachi growled, placing a meaty hand on her desk and grasping a pencil. He flicked it up in his fingers and began to tap it viciously against her desk.

Rukia glared at him—she was actually one of the only two people who could actually look Kenpachi in the eye without cowering; to be able to glower at him was a talent indeed. "I don't know where he is," she said roughly, "But if you would actually come to your senses and call this thing off… I might find him just for you." She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "What do you say?"

Kenpachi grinned evilly, "I say…" he paused for a moment, as if teasing her just to torment her, "Forget it Kuchiki, you're staying with Kurosaki."

Her pencil splintered on her desk and she didn't even take a moment to look. Kenpachi released the shards of pencil and smirked again, "You know something Kuchiki… you're too tense."

"Don't you even finish that sentence," she warned threateningly. "Not another word. I am _not_ going to sleep with him."

Kenpachi threw his head back and roared in laughter. Still sitting, Rukia glared at him and frowned. "What are you laughing at?" She demanded harshly.

Kenpachi simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, his mouth going into that ridiculously annoying smile… again. With another chuckle, her lieutenant bent down and situated his face so they were practically nose to nose. "I was going to suggest a bubble bath, who said anything about sleeping with him?"

Rukia's face flamed instantly.

Kenpachi cocked his head to the side and snickered, Rukia wondered if this was how he had once gotten perp after perp to confess. It sure as hell was working on her. "Got sex on the brain, Kuchiki?"

Rukia sputtered, "I-I… um…"

"Kenpachi!"

_Ichigo_… Rukia thought, a relieved feeling whooshing through her body.

Wait… _relieved_?

Ichigo strode over to his desk—now occupied by Rukia and the overly-large Kenpachi—and frowned at his boss. He cross his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, "Harassing my partner, lieutenant?"

"Not anymore than usual detective," Kenpachi chuckled. He raised his hand from Rukia's desk and shrugged, "You two should get out of here, detail starts at seven."

"Yes sir." Ichigo muttered coldly, he flicked his eyes over his partner and then looked away. "Come on. We gotta get going."

She nodded and got up from her chair, feeling her legs weakly shake beneath her. _Christ… _she thought wretchedly, _they had better not see._

She made up for the trembling in her legs by allowing her stronger arms to wrap her coat around her body. She zipped it up slowly and reached down to the base of the desk. She had situated a gym bag there in the morning, it had everything she needed—clothes, personals, and a few books. God knew she would need something to distract herself while living at Ichigo's for three days.

Well, something to distract herself from his cut and golden body. Deftly, Rukia swallowed, wondering what the hell she was going to do if she caught him coming out of the shower, dripping wet with only a flimsy towel wrapped around his waist. For a moment, she wondered if he had a six pack.

_Definitely_, she told herself, _there was nothing but muscle every time I leaned against him_.

Ichigo turned his head towards her, she noticed that his eyes lingered on her face and she wondered if she could see the blush staining her cheeks. She shook her head to make sure there was a bit of hair covering her face and heaved the bag over her shoulder. A slight grunt escaped her lips and Ichigo raised his gaze to his face, "Need some help?" He asked, his voice was empty, bored almost.

"No thanks," Rukia answered immediately, slightly thrown off by the cold tone of his voice. He hadn't talked to her like that since well… since she had first come to the three one.

Not that she cared anyway, she amended quickly.

"Come on," Ichigo said, indicating towards the door, "We better get going."

"Right," she said, sighing softly, her conversation with Renji pounding into her head. "Let's go."

They headed towards the precinct exit and had to deal with numerous snickers, suggestive looks, and tiny catcalls. Rukia ignored them while Ichigo stared down each person daring enough to actually look him in the eye.

"Just forget it," Rukia told him shortly.

Ichigo's head turned towards her and he sighed, Rukia was still heading outside, her tote in her hand.

Ichigo wondered if she had a negligee in that bag.

-------

"Here we are." Ichigo said blandly, opening the door to his apartment and walking inside. Rukia watched as his back retreated into his home. His motions seemed practiced and easy as he slipped his coat off of his shoulders, threw it onto the back of a nearby chair, he tossed his key onto a table next to a couch. Rukia raised her eyebrows as she noticed the color of the tasteful couch, a lovely navy color instead of the tacky plaid she had imagined.

Actually, his entire apartment wasn't what she imagined. The walls were a creamy beige color covered with framed posters of strange rock bands whose glory days appeared to be about twenty years ago. Along with the navy couch there was a table with wrought iron legs and a glass top. A modest television graced the center of the opposite wall and a pile of movies sat underneath it. Rukia tried to see what a few of the titles were and wondered briefly if _The Saint_ was one of them.

"Come on, there's no poisonous mold or anything in here." He said curtly.

Rukia frowned at him and kept moving inside, shifting her bag so it wouldn't hit her knees. "Fine." Her voice was just as cold as his but unlike his, hers was forced. It was actually kind of amusing to be inside of Ichigo's house—seeing where he lived and how. She just didn't know why he was being so frigid about it.

She took another step inside of his apartment and drew in a deep breath. His scent was everywhere, that toxic and amazing aroma that only Ichigo seemed to have. She paused for a minute just to let it soak into her clothes and seep into her skin. Christ, when she left she was going to be coated in his scent.

"Hungry?"

Rukia opened her eyes and saw Ichigo staring at her. Wait, when had she closed her own eyes? Was she that out of it? Rukia blinked twice and shook her head. "No, I'm not that hungry."

Ichigo nodded just as slowly, his cold eyes sweeping her body as she simply stood there.

Rukia could feel her heart thudding in her chest now. Renji's words were fading into the back of her head as she stared at him. He was wearing butter soft jeans that hugged every muscle of his toned legs and a tight cotton shirt that was practically vacuumed to his chest; she could even see his washboard abdomen through the thin material.

_Oh no…_ she thought softly, feeling the heat rush up into her face.

Ichigo was studying her closely now, his gaze sweeping across every inch of her frame. She could see it. She could see how hungry he was.

She could also see anger. She could see frustration. She could see hurt.

What was he going to do? Rukia's heart began to thud as he continued to watch her. His eyes were hot and glowing and he looked like he was ready to pounce, muscles coiled underneath his shirt as his pulse ticked in his throat. She could see everything now. Everything that he was that made him dangerous.

And she wanted it.

The tension in the room wouldn't have been cut with a chainsaw. Rukia knew that he could see how red her face was. She knew that he could sense how warm and excited she was. She knew because she could see it on his face as well.

Ichigo was the first to look away; he broke eye contact with her and immediately cleared his throat.

"Um, the shower is down the hall to the left, I'll get an extra towel if you need one and the kitchen has some leftovers in it so… feel free to have any of those. I'm just… just going to take a shower and go… to bed."

Rukia nodded and shifted her feet, suddenly noticing the dampness of her panties. "Alright… I'll probably… um, wait, where am I going to sleep?"

Ichigo's eyes flashed darkly and he blinked once, "My bed."

Her heart almost stopped, "W-what?"

He turned his head away and drew in a deep breath. "And—and I'll sleep on the couch, don't worry. I'm keeping my word." He scoffed and turned around. "The line, remember? Just put your stuff wherever you want. It doesn't matter to me."

Rukia's breathing was still uneven as she watched Ichigo' retreating form.

"Fuck," she whispered softly, "This can't be happening."

After months, _months_, of rejecting him over and over again suddenly she wanted him? She wanted him _now_? This was impossible, this was unjust, and this was simply _unethical_. Not to mention it was completely unfair to Ichigo.

Ichigo who was… who was… who was being so cold and distant to her.

Rukia continued to contemplate the utmost _worst _turn in her life so far as she strode around Ichigo's rather spacious apartment.

It was almost the opposite of what she had imagined it would be. There was absolutely no tacky furniture, no obscene magazines littering the floor, and the floors were actually… _clean_. Rukia absentmindedly ran her fingers over a small bureau and stared at the tips in amazement, not a single speck of dust.

_Either Ichigo is a closet neat freak or he employs a maid_, she thought wonderingly, _no man I've ever known ever kept his house this clean._

She heard the shower turn on in the distance and glanced over to the sound. Ichigo would be in there… naked.

Rukia shook her head fervently as soon as she felt the thudding inside of her chest. Christ, it had to be his scent, she told herself in futility. It just had to be. It was everywhere, surrounding her, drowning her, making her want to have that scent lodged deep within her.

A small whimper escaped from Rukia's throat as she kept moving through the house, her hands clenching and unclenching from the bag they were holding. She'd have to burn all of these clothes when she went back to her house. She'd have to peel off her own skin just to get the smell of Ichigo off of her.

If she wanted to, that is.

"Come on Kuchiki," she muttered halfheartedly, "Pull yourself together."

She kept going through the house and wandered into the kitchen. There was a nice stove—it actually looked used unlike hers, a stainless steel refrigerator, and a microwave. Rukia peeked into the fridge and almost salivated at the amount of food she saw available to her. Everything was pre-made so all she would really have to do is stick it in the microwave or in a pot to cook. Rukia shrugged and felt slightly impressed; not only could Ichigo cook but he was smart enough to have pre-made meals, unlike her, she simply ate saltines whenever she was in danger of fainting.

_Going to have to try one of these later_. She mused, skimming her fingers over the lids.

The shower was still running and Rukia wondered just what he was doing in there. She imagined Ichigo, his skin steaming in the hot air, as he rested his head against the wall and let the boiling water run over his tense body.

Suddenly… she wanted to join him.

Rukia barged out of the kitchen and went directly into his bedroom—or what she assumed was his bedroom. The moment she entered she knew it was his… his scent was the strongest right there.

She flipped on the light and stared directly into the place she would be sleeping tonight.

"Christ." She muttered, her eyes glued to the unmade bed in the center of the room. She had to close her eyes and shake her head before she imagined their naked bodies together, moving together sensually, and throwing the sheets off even more.

_I can't sleep here tonight_. She thought desperately. _I just can't_.

She heard the shower going off in the distance. Rukia could feel herself shaking even though she was willing herself to stop. She couldn't be doing this… she really couldn't… not now, not now…

The door to the bathroom opened and Rukia heard Ichigo come out. She swiveled her head around and saw him. Still dripping wet, hand clutching a towel at his waist, his golden body shining in the fluorescent lights. Rukia's eyes traveled down his defined abdomen and then saw the small trail of light hair going down… down… down…

"Rukia?" His voice was serious. Strangled. His eyes were intense and heavy but his voice… oh Christ…

She was breathing harshly now, her chest was throbbing up and down at the sight of him and his eyes, she couldn't seem to look away.

"Ichigo…" she murmured, raising her hands slightly and backing away a bit. "I—I'm going to sleep on the… on the couch…"

She saw him swallow and she could even swear that she could see his heart thudding directly inside of his chest.

He nodded softly and swallowed hard. "Are you… are you sure?"

"Yeah." She whispered, "Yeah, I am."

"Because I can stay… there… tonight." It was becoming difficult for him to talk, Rukia noticed softly; it was becoming hard for her too.

"No," she was backing away from him steadily now, she was going back to the living room, away from him. "I'd rather stay on the… couch."

Ichigo nodded and began to sidle towards his room. Rukia's eyes were trapped on his as they continued their dangerous dance around one another. Finally, his body hit the frame to his door and he stopped; it took everything Rukia had to tear her gaze away from his just so she could go towards the couch.

Wobbly, she worked her legs into the living room and sat down on the couch. Desperately, she dropped her head between her hands and pressed her throbbing temples with her fingers.

Still trembling, Rukia lay down on her side—not even bothering to change her clothing—and faced the soft back.

She could feel the throbbing between her legs.

She could feel the dampness in her panties.

She could feel the desire raging through her blood.

Rukia Kuchiki pressed her face into the couch and did not fall asleep.

-------

Ichigo jerked awake.

His head was pounding and his heart was throbbing painfully. Christ, not another dream, not another fucking _dream_! He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead, wondering if his head was splitting open or if it was just him.

_Need… drugs…_ he bemoaned mentally, trying to push the images of a dead Rukia out of his head.

Ichigo rose from his bed and shakily made his way to the kitchen, his boxer shorts rubbed against his legs as he realize that he was sweating everywhere, so much so that his clothing was sticking to his skin. He swallowed painfully and reached up to highest cabinet in his kitchen, it was where he kept his pharmacy of pain, headache, and muscle medication, groaning, he pulled it down and silently cursed Yuzu for having children who liked to get into anything their hands could pull down.

Ichigo drew a glass of water next, his head still making that horrible, throbbing sensation. Quickly, he swallowed the two pills and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. These would work, they would.

Now to the other matter: Rukia.

Ichigo swiveled his head and glanced at the clock hanging near his kitchen table and cursed loudly when it showed it was only three in the morning. Damn these persistent dreams, they kept him up almost every night with no regard to the fact that he actually needed to work.

Work. _That's right,_ he remembered suddenly, _right now Rukia is my work_.

Quietly, so he wouldn't make any more noise than was necessary, Ichigo sidled into the living room. It took his eyes another minute to adjust to the intense darkness but once they had he saw her. Rukia was lying on her side, her legs curled to the side and her face supported by one of her hands, her eyes were closed and—

No… her eyes were open. Her eyes were open even though she wasn't staring at anything. Ichigo's heart pounded inside of his chest when his gaze traveled to her head. He could see it, directly above her left temple, a single bullet hole, blood oozing out of the open wound.

He blinked, his heart still racing beyond belief, slowly, shakily, he reached down and touched her cheek. The flesh was warm. Her face was pink.

But suddenly, there was no bullet hole, there was no blood, there was no lifeless body before him. Rukia was alive, she was breathing, and she was here.

Ichigo swallowed fitfully as his thumb traced the edges of her cheek and her lips. Just a dream. He needed to stop having these dreams. These horrid dreams where Rukia was dead and he had let it happen. These dreams that were beginning to scare him more than anything ever had in his life.

"Rukia…" he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin was soft. Softer than anything he had ever felt before. Everything about her was soft.

Her eyelids fluttered and she stirred slightly; a small mumble escaped her lips and a warm smile crossed Ichigo's face. She looked so beautiful when she was asleep. Every muscle in her face was relaxed, her mouth was content and curled into something resembling a smile, and each one of her limbs was pliant enough so he could touch her without her truly waking up.

She looked like an angel.

Ichigo smiled softly and grimaced as the remnants of his nightmare fled from his mind. "Rukia…" he said again, his voice coming out strangled and weak in the early morning hours. "You can't die."

Before him, Rukia shivered softly, it was then that he realized she was still completely clothed. Ichigo grimaced and brought his hand out to sweep the rest of her hair out of her face, exposing her delicate ear to his eyes.

_It's because of me_. He thought softly, wondering just what she would do if he chose to wake her up right now. Half of him wanted to see her big, beautiful eyes open before him and stare at him as though she were staring into his soul. He wanted to feel her soft and pliant body against his. He wanted her… only her.

Sighing, Ichigo rose from the couch and reached over to a nearby chair, as he spread the blanket overtop of Rukia he watched her face for any trace of movement. He pulled the sheet to her shoulders and saw her sigh with relief, her eyes fluttered once again and her lips curled slightly—not enough to be a complete smile but close enough for him.

Once the blanket was secure he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to her velveteen cheek. She stirred a bit more but did not awaken. Ichigo sighed and decided to sit on the opposite side of the couch, he wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight, and he definitely was not leaving her side.

-------

The moment Rukia woke up she noticed something was wrong. She didn't know exactly what it was, but she just knew it wasn't right. At first she wondered if it was her surroundings. She didn't truly recognize where she was, and she most certainly didn't recognize the navy fabric in front of her face or the red and black afghan that was covering most of her body. The second thing she didn't recognize was the hand that was protectively wrapped around her bare ankle.

Rukia blinked her eyes and drearily waiting for the sleep to drain itself out of her body, deciding that she'd handle these things one at a time.

Memories of the previous day flooded through her mind and she swallowed nervously when she realized where she was. She remembered her night exploring Ichigo's home, seeing him coming out of the shower, letting her hungry eyes explore every inch of his god-like body, feeling herself growing wet with desire, and practically sprinting to the couch in an effort to escape the new and forbidden sensations coursing through her body.

Rukia knew where she was and she most definitely knew what had put her there. But as for the second thing, the warm substance gripping her ankle, she didn't know. Gingerly, she lifted her head—which was suffering from a small crick—and glanced down the red and black afghan to the thing that was holding onto her foot as if for dear life.

Her eyes widened when she saw Ichigo sitting at the other end of the couch. He was dressed in a pair of boxers and nothing else, his chest bare to her inquisitive gaze and his modesty lowered until it was almost deleted. He was leaning to the side, his head was propped up by his arm which was resting on the side of the couch, he seemed to have fallen asleep unwillingly but that didn't stop his other hand from tightening its grip on her foot. She blinked twice before raising her body onto her elbow and stretching out all of the kinks along her spine. She watched as the afghan dropped from her shoulders and realized with a blush that he must have put it there.

Gently, she tweaked her foot and observed him as he woke up. To her disappointment, he did not stir slowly or even clench his eyes in order to savor a minute more of sleep. Instead, he jerked awake immediately, a wild look entering his eyes while his hand gripped her foot even tighter. His body looked ready and tense and a frown was upon his face almost instantly.

A surge of fear entered Rukia's heart and she called his name, willing him to stop looking so terrified.

The moment she called for him his head swiveled towards her and those wild eyes fastened onto her. She must have had panic written in her face because the minute he saw her, the wildness of his eyes lessened and his breathing—which had been so frantic before—evened out.

"Rukia…" he whispered, his hand releasing her foot immediately and running it through his hair. "Um… h-how are you?"

Rukia blinked, her mind still lingering on what she had seen in Ichigo's eyes. He had looked so… _scared_.

"I'm fine." She said softly, rising up even further on her elbows. She paused for a moment before adding. "Are you alright?"

Ichigo cleared his throat and nodded unconvincingly. "Yeah… it was nothing… just a bad dream."

Rukia's foot slipped from his view to back underneath the afghan. She noticed how his eyes followed her movements as she sat up. She swallowed and tried to forget that he was sitting there in only a pair of boxers.

She coughed lightly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ichigo shook his head immediately and sighed, "No… that's okay." He turned his head towards her and attempted to smile warmly. "Yeah… so…"

"So…" Rukia added, she swallowed nervously and suddenly hated the silence that was between them.

Ichigo coughed and rose from the couch, his muscular body twisting and tensing with his movements, it took all of what Rukia had just not to gawk at him.

"Well," he said softly, "You are my guest and your birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I should be nice to you today… so I'm going to go make something for breakfast while you go soak in the bath."

Rukia nodded to him but drew her knees to her chest and said, "I don't take baths, I take showers."

Ichigo looked back at her with the dark eyes she had come to associate with desire. A shiver ran through Rukia's spine as he stared at her. _Christ_, she thought helplessly, _one look and I'm turned into gelatin_.

He turned and made his way into his room. "I don't mind," he said softly opening his door and staring inside, "Either way."

Rukia released her pent up breath the instant he went inside of his room. She stayed on the couch for a few more minutes before shakily grabbing her gym bag and going into the bathroom.

She closed the door quietly behind her and made sure that she couldn't hear the sounds of Ichigo dressed in the adjacent room. Silently, she turned on the shower and disrobed. The moment she was naked and standing in the center of Ichigo's bathroom she knew what he had been picturing in those moments he had been staring at her.

Rukia gingerly stepped into the shower and let the hot water douse her entire body.

She wondered what Ichigo would do if he was in here with her.

-------

Rukia didn't remember much of what her day with Ichigo was like. It was largely separated in her mind to the moment she had or didn't have with Ichigo Kurosaki.

As much as she would have wanted to be closer to him she was determined to keep her distance. Yet, there were two problems with that, the first one being that she actually _wanted_ to be around Ichigo—after all, this was his house and he was letting her stay here, albeit it was a command from his boss—but whenever she was close to him, rampaging thoughts of desire immediately clouded her brain, making her wonder if he would mind if she jumped him directly in his hallway. Rukia likened it to attempting to get away from annoying cousin who worshipped the ground you walked on. Except Ichigo wasn't her cousin and she most definitely didn't want to get away from him.

The second problem was the fact that Ichigo was just… _there_. Rukia ended up wondering whether or not she would develop claustrophobia just from being in his apartment. Wherever she turned, _whenever_ she turned, he was always there. He was either standing in the kitchen cooking some heavenly food—then putting it in Tupperware so he could eat it later—or straightening up his room or even flipping through papers dealing with work.

Rukia wished she could confine herself to just one area of his apartment that wouldn't have _him_ in it. If she could just stay in that one space and not see him she actually might be able to escape this weekend unharmed.

Except he was everywhere. Wherever she looked she saw a glimpse of his orange hair or a section of his toned legs. Not to mention his scent was in every area of his apartment. She couldn't go anywhere without smelling his enticing aroma.

After lunch on the first day she had attempted to sneak out into the hallway to breathe in some air that didn't have Ichigo's insane scent in it, but he heard the door opening and was immediately at her side, shoving the door closed and relocking it.

"Ah ah…" he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, "You're not going anywhere."

Rukia groaned and leaned her head against the door, "Just for a minute?" She asked, "Please? I just want some fresh air."

"Open a window," was his immediate answer, he smirked and turned around, going back into the kitchen to do the dishes.

Rukia had whined inwardly at first but later found out she didn't mind as much as she thought she would. In fact... she was beginning to wonder whether or not she would be able to live without his smell when she returned to her home.

And he could cook, and cook well for that matter, Rukia was still having difficulty believing it. She had simply never thought of Ichigo as the cooking type. She herself couldn't even _remember_ the last time she had had an actual meal that didn't involve something instant or microwavable. She savored every bite of the delicious food and almost contemplated asking Ichigo the recipes he was using, but then thought better of it. She couldn't even boil water without turning it into mud, let alone cook actual food.

After lunch she was truly at a loss for what to do. Through most of the morning she had simply locked herself in the bathroom, soaking and resting in the bathtub (she had given into temptation and finally decided to take one.) She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken a bath… Christ it must have been ages ago. Well, back when she wasn't so preoccupied with murders and serial killers that is.

But honestly, what could she do—trapped here at Ichigo's apartment as she was? Luckily, Ichigo had an answer for that as well. He came out to the living room directly after lunch and immediately presented her with a stack of paperwork and a couple of movies.

For the past couple of months, the Lou had given them some slack on the Birthday Basher case and had allowed them—much to Rukia's chagrin—to begin working on other cases. They were mostly small and easily solved cases, which still left them room to work on their original one but Rukia knew that she couldn't be satisfied until her brother's killer was found, no matter how many other cases Kenpachi shoved down her throat.

"I know the Lou told you not to do anything resembling work but I also thought you'd be bored stiff if you weren't doing something like work."

Rukia could have kissed him for that, well, had she not been on an anti-Ichigo path at the moment. Instead, she grabbed the papers and made a beeline for the couch. Ichigo grinned and handed her a pen, flopping down beside her and grabbing the remote.

Rukia frowned softly and peered over at Ichigo. "Are you really going to watch television while I sit here and do work?"

Ichigo looked over at her and grinned, "Well, it is the weekend and I am completely bored so—"

"Do some paperwork." She finished as she tossed him a folder filled with un-filed papers at him; he caught them deftly but set them on the couch cushion beside his body. She glared at him and added acidly, "It's more productive than television."

"But not as entertaining." He replied smartly, flipping on the television and rummaging through a few DVD's he had next to him. He glanced over at Rukia and grinned, "So, do you want to watch _The Saint_?"

Rukia glared at him for a full three minutes and was amazed when he actually stared back with stark fortitude. She sighed softly before she leaned back into the couch cushions, "Put it in."

Ichigo grinned and nodded, "Just make sure you pay close attention to the river scene."

"I didn't say I'd watch it." She said instantaneously, "Just that you could put it in. _I'll _be doing paperwork."

-------

Ichigo flipped off the television screen and glanced over at Rukia. She was staring at the blank screen, her mouth slightly open and her eyes screwed into a frown. A smile curled onto his mouth as he continued to watch her reaction.

She turned to him after a moment and stared at him with such a look of utter disbelief that it was almost laughable.

"Ichigo…" she said after a moment of silence, he leaned towards her a bit and edged his eyebrow up, intently listening to each of her words. Rukia bit her lip and grimaced softly, "Now you know the reason why I do not watch that many movies."

Ichigo chuckled softly and shook his head, "Come on Rukia, that movie's a classic."

"No see, _Casablanca_ is a classic, _The Sound of Music_ is a classic, what you just put in front of me is a… a… _movie_."

"You're just too limited in your scope of movies," he told her, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Rukia called after him, picking up the papers she had disregarded after the start of the movie, grouchily, she realized she had only gotten three pages—out of about fifty—completed.

"I'm going to make dinner," he said from the room, "I know it's early but really, what else do we have to do?"

Rukia nodded, "Point taken."

"I'll make sure it takes a while to cook." He said as he went into the kitchen.

Rukia watched him go, staring at his ass the entire time.

-------

Dinner that night was chicken parmesan. Ichigo knew he shouldn't have made it, but he did and he simply had to suffer the consequences of watching her eat—again.

She must have known he was watching her because with every movement she made his eyes were cataloguing into his memory. The delicate slip of a noodle between her lips, a spot of sauce on her chin he was simply dying to lick away, and a string of cheese that didn't leave the edge of her fork. She just didn't know what this day had been for him. But he knew, he knew it all too well.

It was fucking torture.

_Torture_.

He doubted she knew why he spent such a long time in the shower last night, or why he was trying to keep his distance from her, or even why he was spending so much time in the kitchen. He was simply trying to stay far enough away that he wouldn't be suffering through erections lasting twenty four hours a day.

_Well there's something good_, Ichigo grumbled mentally, _I'll never need Viagra with boners like these_.

Watching her as she ate made things even worse. He was even wondering whether or not he would have to go back into the shower and _relieve_ himself.

She just didn't realize what her presence did to him. Every move she made was an exertion of pure, sexual, motion. And now she was sitting next to him, he could smell her from the other side of the couch. Fresh and lively and _edible_.

She just looked so _cute_ on his couch, draped in that overly large shirt and tiny pair of boxer shorts, which she had donned shortly after her latest shower. He had no idea that she would ever look so good in something so mediocre. Her hair was still wet and her skin glistened warmly. She was a healthy tinge of pink and her eyes were large… wet… and staring placidly at the television. And her lips… her lips looked so inviting. She would occasionally run her tongue over the edges, rewetting them on this cold January night. He remembered their taste—it felt like eternity since he had sampled their delicious flavor. His breathing became shorter as he continued to stare at her, he had never remembered wanting anything this badly. She was too perfect to look at, yet she was a forbidden fruit, and she had told him she wanted nothing to do with… with… him.

The line, he told himself disgustedly. The fucking line that was keeping him away from her. That line that she said had to remain between them in order to… to…

Absentmindedly, Rukia scratched an itch on her ribcage, directly beneath her breast, which, to his knowledge, was not trapped by any type of undergarment. Her knuckles brushed it almost against their will and then retreated back into her lap.

Ichigo did not know how it happened. He truly did not know how one moment he had been sitting on the opposite end of the couch, adoring every inch of Rukia Kuchiki's body, trying to control his powerful lust for her—not to mention his erection—while the next moment his right hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her lips towards his, while his left hand clamped immediately onto her breast. She was only able to let go of a startled yelp before Ichigo covered her mouth, his hot breath seared her skin and she gasped at the intensity.

Her gasp soon turned into a belying whimper as his thumb passed roughly across the top of her breast, searing the nipple with his heated skin. She jerked against his touch and his body immediately moved to press her back into the soft fabric of the couch. The hand at the back of her neck moved up and gripped her black locks tightly as he tilted her head so he was directly above her. Her heat was electrifying—it was exciting him and terrifying him at the same time, but he knew that he needed more of it. His tongue, as if it had a mind of its own, escaped the restrains of his mouth and traced the pink softness of her lips, begging for entrance into her moist cavern.

To his surprise, but most definitely not to his displeasure, she gasped and her mouth opened on pure reflex. Ichigo did not hesitate and instantly delved into her. He could taste ever inch of her beautifully hot orifice. His lips burned against hers as he turned his head to the side and pressed as much of his mouth against her as was humanly possible.

She was moaning beneath him, writing at the delicious sensations he was sending to course through her body. Ichigo wanted to give her more, he didn't want her to simply moan, he wanted to make her writhe and scream as he pushed into her again and again and again. He wanted so badly to be inside of her heat, tightly winding her and pushing her over the edges of conscious feeling until she could do nothing but lie on her back and scream.

His hand cupped her breast completely as his tongue coaxed at her own, attempting to entice it to follow him home. He might have wanted to make her scream… but more than anything else he wanted her to beg for his body. He wanted her to demand that he bury himself deep inside of her. He wanted her to willingly admit that she needed him. He most definitely did not want to be the only participant in this matter. He wanted so badly for her to want him. After so many weeks of waiting she owed him that much.

Her hands were on his chest and pushing lightly. Her lips were whimpering against his. Her body was straining to be free.

Ichigo released her immediately. His breathing was harsh and his body was shaking with unanswered need. His mouth hovered above hers as he stared deeply into her eyes. He saw panic and fear inside of those clear orbs.

If Ichigo could have taken his gun and shot himself he would have done it. Never… _never_… had he wanted to be the cause of such overt emotions in Rukia's eyes. Shaking with self-disgust he slowly moved off of her body, his hand leaving her breast and the taunt nipple, he closed his eyes completely and returned to a sitting position.

He had never felt such complete hatred for himself. He had just forced himself on a woman about half his size. She had told him before that she didn't want to become romantically involved. She had _told_ him… he had _heard_ her… Ichigo placed his elbows on his knees and bent his head in shame. His body was still throbbing painfully, he knew that he had an erection the size of a missile but _Christ_! He had let his desires run off and do whatever the hell they had wanted to do. Already he could feel his heart sinking into the pit of stomach. It was a disgusting feeling to suit such a disgusting person.

Rukia stared over at him, her eyes wide with shock and panic. He looked so shameful… why was he looking like that? What had she… what had she done wrong? Her body was tingling delightfully at what Ichigo had just done to her, her breast—the one Ichigo had stroked—was burning and pleading to be touched again, her heart was beating with the speed of a race horse and her legs… at the very center of her legs there was a very insistent throbbing and tightening that she wanted him to relieve.

His kiss… his kiss had been so hot and so delicious and so unexpected. She had just been watching TV one moment and the next thing she knew he was on top of her, kissing the ever-loving life out of her. She swallowed and wondered why she was feeling like this now. After all, she had been the one to tell him no over and over again but… but… Christ, the way he had come at her, like a panther finally capturing the prey it had been stalking for so long. It made her feel so _desired _and potent. She had never felt like that before and she knew that in one thousand years she would never be able to feel like that again. Unless she…

Unless she…

Ichigo was looking like he was ready to shoot himself. His eyes were closed, his head was pressed against the palms of his hands, his body was shaking violently, his erection was pressing insistently against his pants, and he was breathing like he had just run a marathon.

Steel entered Rukia's eyes as she considered what she was about to do. So what if she had told him that she didn't want to involve herself in a romantic relationship with him? So what if she had said it over and over and over again? Who the hell would really give a flying fuck? She needed sex. She needed sex badly. Besides, it was her choice who she wanted to take to bed. What mattered was right here and right now. Her resolve was set. She wanted him now and she was sure as fucking hell going to have him _now_.

Fuck the _line_.

She moved carefully, her legs were as soft as gelatin and she was positive that at any moment they would give out. Her core was throbbing and she knew that she needed relief. Her eyes were hungry as they traced every muscle of his body, the tight sinew of his powerful arms and the rock hardness of his devilishly beautiful legs, his solid jaw and high cheekbones… she wanted all of them. But more than that, she wanted them all to herself.

In one move she was standing before Ichigo. His head was still buried in his hands but when he felt the pressure on the couch alleviated he stiffened and looked up slowly.

Rukia could feel the pace of her heart quicken and heard her breath come out in short gasps. His eyes were large and darkly amber—she wanted to drown in their tawny depths.

"Rukia," he croaked hoarsely, "I… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… to… what are you—?"

Rukia wasted no time as she moved, the moment Ichigo removed his elbows from his knees she acted. Her hands fastened onto his shoulders and she climbed onto his lap, her legs fitting snugly against his waist and her core pressing hotly against his throbbing erection. She took the distinct pleasure in watching Ichigo's eyes widen to their enabled capacity. His arms didn't move from their new place on the couch, not that Rukia cared… she was quite certain she could take care of this.

Her eyes bored directly into Ichigo's as she slowly… ever so cautiously… raised her hips from his. She saw the man beneath her swallow convulsively as her warmth was removed from his. She could see that he wanted it back; she could see that he needed it, her breath quickened when she realized she needed it too.

Her hips were almost a foot above Ichigo's when he whimpered softly. That whimper, that vocal call of need, was what Rukia needed to hear. In less than a second she slammed her core against his erection; Ichigo drew in a gasp at the sudden motion and groaned as he witnessed and felt Rukia grinding herself onto his pulsating cock.

Her hips moved in an undulating pattern as she alleviated and worsened the pressure atop his body. Every time she came and ground her hot center against him he panted with need and each time she removed her heated center from him he wanted to scream at her to move back. It was a torturous cycle; one that she could see would have no peaceful ending.

He uttered a grisly groan as she broke contact with his eyes and reached down to place butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw line. She could feel the tight cords of his hard column as she bit and nipped at his pulse. She reveled how it beat so erratically—she knew she was the cause of it. This heat, this need… he wanted _her_ so badly…

Then why was he not moving? Her hips were thrusting against his, her breasts were brushing his chest, her hands were squeezing his pectorals, and her mouth—the mouth he had once said would be the death of him—was sending fevered kisses and licks over his skin, yet his arms were still motionless. Rukia's eyes glazed over them and she saw they were clenching into dramatic fists, furling and unfurling in a desperate attempt to have some ounce of control over his body.

She snickered into his neck, "You had better start participating," she murmured huskily as she moved over to bite his earlobe and felt his entire body jerk at the touch. She blew a puff of hot air at his ear. "I wouldn't want to rape you."

Ichigo snapped. That was the only way to describe such a movement: his will, his body, and his mind snapped in one conclusive motion. Rukia gasped as his hands reached up and took a hold of the sides of her face. He dragged her lips back to his as his hand snaked around to grasp her hair tightly. Rukia was panting and Ichigo was growling as he leaned into her face and assaulted her mouth. She whimpered as his tongue pried her lips apart and he delved into the moist velvet of her mouth. Her fingers relinquished their hold on his chest as they moved to his neck and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. She angled her head to allow him deeper and began to jerk against his erection with increased purpose. The hand that was not wrapped in her hair caught her waist and yanked her closer to him. Now her breasts created the friction of their upper bodies as her hips continued the torturous heat of their lower.

Ichigo could feel himself losing control. To think… that she would do something like this to him—for him—it was too much for his mind to handle. The way she was moving and gripping and touching him… it was a struggle for him to think straight. Her thighs were continually gripping and squeezing his legs as her wet core assaulted his ramrod-straight erection. Her arms were resting on his shoulders and he could feel the muscles inside of them as she clutched his hair.

And her taste! Her taste was what men died for. If his heart simply decided to give out now and he died he would have died a happy man, knowing that he was drinking in the addictive taste of Rukia Kuchiki. Her skin smelled of heat, her hair felt like silk, her mouth tasted like cherries and fresh rainwater. He could become drunk in the sensations of her.

Willing himself harder, Ichigo thrust his hips up as Rukia crashed down upon him. The effect was mind-blowing. Her lips were ripped from his as she let out a startled scream. The pressure was building inside of her and Ichigo knew that it was his duty to relieve it for her. Relive her, pleasure her, complete her.

Ichigo refastened his mouth to hers and heard her begin to moan helplessly. Helpless… it was an emotion he doubted she frequently had. Even in her worst moments—when she seemed confused and desolate she never once appeared helpless.

The grinding became faster and more urgent but also wilder and uninhibited. She removed her mouth from his and began to pant against his neck, moving her lower body in extreme urgency.

"Ichigo…" she moaned as her body pulsated against his. Her mouth drawled on his name and never had he felt such pleasure coarse through his veins. She needed him to help her to completion.

Ichigo swallowed dryly as his hands moved from gripping her taunt ass to the base of her loose shirt. Insistently, he pushed the floppy material up and slid his hands under. Hungrily, his hands felt what his eyes could not yet see. Her skin was so soft he wondered if his calloused fingers would bruise her. He could feel her ribs as her body expanded passionately into pants. Then he moved further and touched the perfect breasts he had been waiting so long to feel skin to skin. The entirety of one of her breasts could fit into his palm and he knew in that moment that his hand was made for her breast. This thumb rubbed over her distended nipple and he released a growl of pleasure when he felt her shudder. A second hand moved underneath the flimsy fabric to grasp her other breast. He panted in pleasure as he tested each rosy nub, pinching and flicking them until they were pebbles under his touch. Rukia was mewling above him, her own hands gripping his shoulders and her face contorting in pleasurable torture.

She gasped his name once again and dutifully raised her arms above her head. Ichigo did not hesitate to yank the loose shirt over her head and throw it into an abandoned corner of the apartment. As soon as she was free from the restriction his eyes feasted hungrily on her perfect mounds. The mulberry nipples were exactly as he had dreamed them to be, her skin complimented the perfect color of both blushing nubs, and… oh, they were heaving against him, simply inviting his mouth to reach down and devour them completely.

Rukia let out a tiny shriek as Ichigo's hot lips closed over one of her breasts. She immediately raised her body and grasped the back of his head, pressing his face to the center of her chest, shuddering at every flick of his tongue and every brush of his teeth. She called his name, louder this time, and he knew she was close.

He hungrily switched from her first breast to her second as she continued to shudder and plead beneath him. Her cries were music to his ears and he knew that he would be inside of her soon. He suckled on one of her nipples and she yelped aloud. Her grip on his hair was beginning to become painful and he wondered if she would rip out a few strands.

"Ichigo!" She cried, her voice was demanding, she needed him and he knew it.

But he wasn't ready to relinquish her taste just yet. Her mouth, her skin, and her breasts were equitable to dining in a heavenly hall but now… now he wanted to taste something he had only dreamed of tasting in his X-rated fantasies.

Ichigo jerked his mouth from her nipple and Rukia sighed in pained relief. His lips curled into a mischievous smile and he slowly detached her body from his. Her eyes widened in horror as he pried her sweating chest and throbbing core from his. His arms supported her body as she formed an angry tirade on the tip of her tongue. Ichigo simply smirked as he picked her up and slammed her against the back of the couch. Rukia let out a strangled cry of surprise and made her hands grapple for any means of support she could reach. Her eyes fastened on Ichigo as she watched him kneel before her, lick his lips, and hook his fingers in the waistband of her boxer shorts. Her breathing became violent as he pulled them leisurely down her legs, Rukia rushed to lift her taunt ass from the couch and aid in her undressing.

Once they were off and tossed into an unknown corner of the room Rukia drew her eyes down and stared at Ichigo. His eyes were feasting on the sight of her glistening pussy. She knew that he could see her puffy lips and begging clitoris. Her tongue appeared and licked her dry mouth as she panted at the sight of him. He looked so predatory, like she belonged to him and no one else.

Rukia swallowed and arched her back a bit, scooting her core closer to his kneeling form. Ichigo's eyes widened with wild abandon and in an instant his face was buried between her legs.

Rukia couldn't have stopped the scream even if she had wanted to.

Her hands flew immediately to his hair where she gripped it tightly, her eyes shut to the verge of tears, and her legs wrapped around Ichigo's shoulders, drawing him as close to her as he could be.

"Oh my _Gooooooooood_." She moaned breathlessly.

Ichigo tongue was working miracles on her tightly wound pussy. He was circling her clitoris with the pink appendage and tugging on the distended nub with his teeth. His lips would caress the tiny bundle of nerves with reverence while his tongue licked her sopping walls. Again and again she delivered tiny screams and howls as he bit her puffy, pink lips and simultaneously soothed them.

Rukia could feel her inner walls tightening as Ichigo's tongue laved her insides. She moaned and arched her back against the couch, her fingers tightening in his hair until she was sure she would rip it out. Ichigo moaned against her heated cunt and it was the vibrations that sent her over the edge. Her throat released a sharp scream into the air as he lapped up each drop of her juices. His tongue did not stop working even as her hands relaxed in his orange locks and her arms dropped to her sides. Her chest was heaving with the pressure it took to even breathe.

"Oh… God…" she moaned, her hands moving to the sides of his face as she caressed his cheeks with her thumbs, "How… w-what?"

Ichigo rested his elbow on the couch and massaged her thighs; he cocked an eyebrow and grinned wickedly, "I knew your lips would taste as good as they looked."

Rukia's passion-filled eyes darkened even more with wild lust. She leaned forward sensually and stared hungrily at Ichigo's golden body. His ribbed muscles, his 12 pack of abs, and his rather large erection pressing restlessly against the fabric of his boxers. Rukia's breathing became short and her eyes dilated as she stared at him… he was a _god_.

She lashed forward, surprising Ichigo and pleasing him at the same time. In a single moment she was atop him once again, her hands clawing at his pectorals and rubbing his nipples. His back was pressed into the floor of his apartment and his body lurched against hers. His eyes were blazing with desire; Rukia stared back and slowly ground her core against him. His lashes fluttered as he tried to keep his eyes open. Her heat was teasing him and crushing him at the same time. His hands latched themselves on to her hips, holding her hard enough to cause bruises.

"Rukia…" he growled, his voice dark with unheeded desires.

She breathed hotly and whispered, "I want you."

She drew in a sharp gasp and immediately released him from her devilish hold. Ichigo reared back up and glared at her. What was she—why was she?

Not a moment later she had her fingers hooked around the waistband of his boxers and was pulling them forcefully down his legs. They were gone in a matter of seconds, tossed to the outer regions of the apartment with her shirt and panties. Time slowed as he saw her, crawling on her hands and knees towards him. Her body had the image of a cat as it slinked towards him with stealthily. Her large eyes were coming closer and closer to him and so was her mouth—those delicious lips—and her sopping pussy simply aching to be filled.

She paused momentarily in her delicious crawl, her eyes shifted downward to view his stiff cock. She paused momentarily and raised one of her hands. Ichigo stared at her hungrily as she placed one finger at the base of his throbbing erection and slowly moved it up, swirling it around the head as he bucked and groaned beneath her. Her finger tapped the tip of his shaft as she bent her head down to kiss it.

Ichigo moaned loudly and snarled, "Rukia… I swear to fucking god that if you don't—"

She was above him in a second, her slick heat massaging the very top of his cock. "Impatient are we?" She hissed huskily, taking him only an inch inside of her. His hands shot out and gripped her shoulders, his fingers bruising softly.

"Rukia…" he growled.

In one swift move she had impaled herself on Ichigo's engorged shaft and their sharp screams radiated throughout the room. She panted helplessly as she felt him fill her inch by inch. His largeness permeated her entire being and completed her to such an extent that she had never known a moment where she had been so blissful. She did not move for a moment, she simply soaked in the sensations of him, ready and hot inside of her, he was panting beneath her body, her thighs could feel the clenching muscles in his legs, and her hands could feel the violent thudding in his heart.

"Oh… _Christ_…" Rukia groaned fitfully, her hands scratching down his chest.

Ichigo was breathing hard, "Just… just wait…" He lurched beneath her and she fell a bit forward, her arms shaking and barely supporting her. "I'll make you feel… feel _so_ good."

The next thing she knew she was on her back, her legs were hooked around his waist, and he was pulling out of her. Rukia groaned at the lack of heat but shrieked when he pushed back into her.

"Fuck," he groaned as his teeth latched onto her neck and he bit down hard. "You're so _tight_." She shuddered beneath him as her arms wrapped around his back. He drew out of her with agonizing slowness before thrusting back into her with such force Rukia was sure she was going to pass out.

Rukia moaned as her mind flashed back to relations she had had with other men, they had been satisfying yes, but nothing… _nothing_ as intense as this. Ichigo seemed to know exactly what to do; his teeth were biting at her shoulders while his tongue soothed the marks. He was thrusting into her with unimaginable force, his movements causing her to buck and moan until she could feel the inevitable tightening of her pussy.

"Ichigo…!" She groaned, her voice breaking with each syllable. Her body arched sensually and began to curl around him.

"F—Fuck Rukia," he shuddered, his cock wrenching back into her. She was too much… she was panting and groaning and whimpering loudly, her fingernails were digging into the base of his neck, making crimson blood run down his back and slid onto the floor. Her pants were becoming more insistent and Ichigo knew that he needed to bring her to the brink. He slid his hands down between the slick sweat of their bodies until he was circling her clit, rubbing and teasing until he could feel her walls clamping down on his pulsating cock. Her back arched into the air and she let out a scream, feeling Ichigo's engorged shaft as it continued to thrust into her, even as she climaxed.

Within seconds Ichigo had followed her into the edges of bliss. He exploded into her with such force he wondered if his soul had spilled inside of her as well. His cum shot into her as she gripped him tightly, holding onto him for dear life.

Ichigo panted as he finished completely. His body was above hers but his arms were weak and shaking. He opened his eyes—when had he shut them? Was it when he came?—and stared down at Rukia. Her face was heated and red, her eyes were passionately shining and dazed, she was staring off into the distance, her body throbbing as he lay above her.

Gingerly, her eyes readjusted to stare at him and she blinked a few times. She was panting and shuddering as she brought her hand up and caressed his cheek.

Ichigo bent down slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to her swollen lips. He swallowed softly and slid out of her gingerly. She moaned quietly as she looked down and watched as he removed himself, he was covered in her juices and still stiff. Rukia cocked an eyebrow and snorted softly at the sight… _men_.

Ungracefully, Ichigo slumped to his side and breathed harshly. His body was tingling with the sensations of sex. He glued his eyes to the ceiling as he felt the heat from the woman beside him. God… that had been the single most fantastic experience of his entire life, it was the thing he had wanted for so long and now he had had it. Ichigo swallowed and turned his head to her, Christ he wanted her again. Her body was radiating with sex and her scent was heady and passionate, her naked chest was heaving and her perfect lips were biting each other. He had never seen someone look so sexy without even trying.

She was the first to speak, "So…" she croaked, turning her head towards him, "What… now?"

Ichigo was still panting. It took him a while before he was able to twist towards her and stare deep into her eyes, "What do you mean?" His voice was deep and satiated, but underneath that, far underneath, she could hear the residual traces of hunger.

She swallowed accusingly and blinked at him, "I mean… what happens… well, next?" She sighed and shook her head, "We had sex. You got what you wanted, I apparently got what I wanted…" she whistled softly. "Yes I did…"

Ichigo felt a small shiver of confusion run down his spine. It accompanied the pride he felt when he heard her say she had gotten what she wanted.

She cleared her throat a bit and continued, "Do we keep on living like we have?" She turned her head to Ichigo and pressed her cheek against the carpet. Her eyes were deep and slightly panicked. "Should we… um, keep… sleeping together?"

Ichigo blinked twice and mentally knew that what had just occurred would happen again, there was no way in hell it wouldn't. "What about our case? Seriously, how are we supposed to solve it, and all of the others, if we're too busy having… well, sex?"

Ichigo's look turned to one of uninterrupted desire. Rukia's throat worked as she gulped at the new expression covering his face.

She was completely serious, Ichigo realize in a moment. Her eyes—which had been glazed with passion only moments before—were hard and calculating. Ichigo felt irritation grow inside as she stared at him, her eyes weakening in resolution by the second.

The last thing he wanted was for her to be so business-like after they had just fucked on his living room carpet. His chest twanged painfully… he wanted her to whimper and pant and scream and groan, like she had been doing only moments before. Knowing Rukia, she would most likely just put her clothes back on again and resume watching the television, completely ignoring what had just conspired between them.

Ichigo frowned at her and sat up swiftly.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

He braced her arms around her sides and glared at her with a hard glint in her eyes. Her shining orbs widened and she swallowed convulsively.

"What we're going to do," Ichigo whispered dangerously. "Is go back into my room and continue to have sex until neither of us can move. What we're going to do tomorrow is get up early, eat breakfast, and then confine ourselves to the bed, the couch, the floor, the shower or even the walls if you want."

Rukia's eyes widened and she gulped as Ichigo's hand began to cup and tease her exposed breast. "After that… we'll continue going to work, have quickies in the break room or in the examiner's office, and then come back to my apartment."

"But my… my h-house." She moaned as he squeezed her nipple.

"There is fine too," he smirked as he leaned down to kiss her neglected breast. "I don't really care where; I simply want to make sure that at the end of each and every day, for as long as we have together, we end up skin to skin, me inside of you." He leaned over to her and reveled in her startled stare, his eyes were burning into hers, leaving a mark he never wanted to disappear.

"Understand?" He asked hotly, running his hand from her sensitive breast to her wet core. She shuddered under his touch and whined softly. Ichigo could feel himself growing hard at her sounds.

"Already?" She asked huskily, feeling his erection pressing against her thigh.

"Damn straight," he grinned. He stood swiftly and bent down to lift her up. She yelped as he carried her bridal style to his room, dumped her on the bed, and climbed atop of her.

Rukia's lips twisted into a slickly pleasurable smirk, all thoughts of tomorrow gone from her mind, "Well…" she murmured as his hand began to travel the length of his chest, "If you want it so neither of us can move…" her fingers moved down and gripped his erection. "Then we had better get started."

Ichigo snickered, "If you insist."

**(Ah, now Rukia wouldn't be Rukia if she didn't kill the mood. ******


	14. Lost Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Hey peoples, just wanted to tell you thanks so much for all my reviews, I really appreciate everything everyone writes, so just thank you so much.**

**OKAY: NOTE THAT THERE ARE EXPLICIT SEXUAL IMAGES IN THIS CHAPTER. DO NOT FLAME IF YOUR EYES POP OUT OF YOUR HEAD, BECAUSE I WARNED YOU:P )**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW! I LOVE YOU ALL!)**

**Chapter 13**

Wearily, Rukia made her way to the shower, feeling the sticky insides of her thighs rubbing together with every step she took. A tremor shook her body and she remembered the tumultuous night—morning?—she had just experienced.

Three times. She had never had sex three times in one night. She hadn't even thought it was possible until only a few hours—minutes?—ago. Christ, she felt like she had been drugged. She wasn't even sure she could feel her fingers, or her toes for that matter, all twenty of the little digits had either curled tightly into Ichigo's hair or squeezed against themselves, going numb as she came around his pulsating cock. Experimentally she moved each of the little buggers, her fingers first, then her toes… there was slight sensation but not much.

Sighing heavily, she turned on the faucet and waited until the hot water was finally rushing from the tap. Her fingers tested the liquid and she groaned with pleasure as it fell around her hand and between her unpolished nails.

With careful steps she entered the shower and shuddered as the heated water surrounded her. Her hair was sopping within moments.

"Jesus," she murmured softly, wetting her hand and smoothing it between her legs, relieving them of any come they still had on them.

She didn't know why the experience with Ichigo had left her so shaken. She had had sex before, both when she had been in college and in the Police Academy. There, she had been the object of many men's affections and desires. She had even given in to a few of those slick suggestions and secretive glances. There were multiple dark beds in apartments she only saw once, men who would flirt with her one day and ignore her after they had gotten into her pants, and the occasional man who would brag about "scoring" her the previous night. Each one of them had been jerks, losers, or just plain weird. But each of them had one thing in common, after sleeping with them she had always regretted it. Always. And it wasn't just the looks she got from almost the entire office the next day; she had been able to deal with those. Everyone knew better than to whisper behind Rukia Kuchiki's back about her being "easy." 

But still… there had not been a single morning when she had woken up and wished the sun had stayed dormant within the sky for just a while longer. No, each of those times she had woken up, gotten dressed, and left without saying goodbye.

It wasn't the sex part she didn't enjoy… it was just the sex _partner_. And that was only about half true, she didn't know what exactly it was about Ichigo that made him so fantastic in bed—or anywhere outside of an actual bed—but she was also wondering how she had gone so fucking long without it.

She just knew she wanted more. So much more.

That was the entire problem with sex, she thought bitterly, once you have it you just want it more and more… and even 'Killer Kuchiki' was no exception. Yes, sex was something she wanted to happen as often as possible… it was just the _person_ she had tried so many times to get right.

Tried and failed usually.

But _Ichigo_?

She had absolutely no doubt left in her mind that what she had experienced only a few hours ago was the best sex of her entire life. Ichigo had done things to her and shown her things that no one else ever had.

Dreamily, she placed her hand on the marble wall of the shower and felt her satiated pussy begin to throb. Never had a man so boldly placed his head between her legs and eaten her as if she were a delicious treat—and on their first coupling too. She had never, in the course of the night, had someone be so tender, so giving, and so passionate to her all at once. Fast slow fast slow fast slow… it never seemed to end. It was just until there was a tight winding of pleasure and the eruption of Ichigo inside of her and then… and then… and then she was in euphoric bliss, her body flat against Ichigo's, his heartbeat racing at the same pace as hers.

Oh great, now she was wet again, Rukia shook her head and placed that next to the cool tiles as well. Did it _ever_ end?

Not that she actually wanted it to end… but Ichigo was asleep on his bed, the blankets swirled around his torso like a toga wrapped around a god. Rukia smiled softly and wondered what time it was, Christ knew she hadn't gotten any sleep tonight. It was a good thing Kenpachi had given her three days off for her birthday.

Her birthday. That's right, it was technically her birthday, at least, she hoped it was, it might have been after midnight. In truth she couldn't tell if that sex had lasted for countless hours or simple minutes. Rukia smiled softly, if it had been only minutes… well… then they still had the rest of the weekend, didn't they?

She sighed and closed her eyes, the hot water was such a relief, it soothed its way all over her body and massaged her scalp. Granted, it didn't feel as good as when Ichigo ran his fingers through her hair, but it came close. She was just so glad she was able to relax this way… but she also wished that her new lover—was that the proper term to use? _Lover_? It did imply some sort of feeling beyond sexual desire, and she didn't feel anything like that—would awaken soon so they could be together again. Rukia shudder at the thought. Or she could creep into his room, her body still heated and dripping from her shower, watch as his eyes fluttered open gently and fastened to her body, crawling sensually towards him. She could turn him over so he was on his back, straddle his hips, and imbed him so deeply inside of her she would never get him out of her blood, and vice versa. Oh it would be wonderful to move above him, watch his face, hear his guttural groans—

"Don't scream." 

Rukia's head snapped up as she felt warm and callused hands gripping her hips. She drew in a ragged breath and his name slipped from her lips, dribbling with the steaming water down her face. 

"Ichigo…"

She hadn't even heard him come in. She was in such deep thought… how could she not have…?

He was already hard, she could feel him pressing against her inner thigh as her back molded to his solid chest. She moaned loudly and pressed both hands to the tile walls. Ichigo growled softly, the vibrations spearing through her body and sending the shockwaves directly into her hot pussy.

His arms wound around her body until one of them was cupping her breast, fondling and tweaking her nipple and his second hand was snaking down her stomach, her abdomen, and finally to the patch of midnight curls he found so heavenly. His finger slipped between the lips of her core and located the tight bundle of nerves that could bring her so much pleasure.

His name shuddered from her lips as he continued to pleasure her. His arms tightened around her as her legs threatened to buckle underneath the slow, leisurely movements he was creating. Every touch and tease was stimulation. But he was going so _slowly_. She wanted him _now_. Hard and fast she wanted him.

His lips were on her neck now, biting and kissing and licking.

She was panting now, her body pushing back against his. He groaned as she pressed her tight ass against his erection. She could feel him pulsating and knew that he was ready for her.

She twisted her head backwards and managed to place her mouth next to his ear. From what she could see of his face she knew that his orange hair was flopping slightly into his eyes. She wished she could see what his gaze was saying… they were like a window into his deepest desires—even though he tried so hard to hide it.

"Ichigo," she groaned as she felt him press a bit closer to her. The hand on her cunt was causing her insides to tighten, but she wanted to come with Ichigo, not before. "Please," she gasped, "Please, I need you… to fin—finish."

The hand on her breast clasped down hard, Rukia whimpered as her pert nipple was pleasantly crushed under his insistent palm. Everything, however, was forgotten the moment Ichigo impaled her with his engorged shaft.

"F-Fuck!" She screamed as he pulled out of her quickly and thrust back with endless streams of power.

Ichigo's fervor darkened around them as he pressed her full against the wall of the shower. She gasped at the cold tiles on her skin but soon found that the cold would be but a distant memory in moments to pass. Searing water was running down her shoulders and permeating the connected skin between them, making their motions slick and sensual. Ichigo's lips were on her neck, his teeth biting an insatiable imprint onto her delicate skin. His hands were now pressed onto the tops of hers, flattening them against the wall.

Rukia could feel her sanity slipping away with outrageous speed. Each of Ichigo's movements caused her body to lurch upwards and slide against cold tile, stimulating her body into cries and fits as temperatures collided and her inner sanctum was pleasured with hard thrust after thrust.

"C-Christ," she sputtered, curling her fingers into the tile, Ichigo's hands closed over hers as she gasped. He groaned loudly as he crushed her against the wall.

Her insides clenched around him and with a final scream she came, her head thrown back and Ichigo's mouth on her neck. Gasping in the heat of the shower, it almost became too much—she felt him inside of her, thrusting once, twice, thrice, before finally coming himself. His teeth bit down hard on her neck and she cried out at the painfully erotic sensation. 

His thrusts began to slow and in a matter of moments stopped completely until he was still and spent inside of her.

Her heartbeat had finally returned to the pace of normalcy when Ichigo withdrew from her. She sighed in desolation as the feeling of emptiness returned.

She also felt it when Ichigo removed his teeth from her neck. His bite had been slightly painful but by now she would have whined for them to be back. The water continued to flow down their bodies as Ichigo sent one of his hands running in between her thighs. She sighed softly as he caressed the slightly bruised area and made sure that she was clean. She continued to sigh and moan until there was no more stickiness inside her and Ichigo was placing butterfly kisses on her marked throat.

He turned off the water in silence, not having spoken since the two words he had said in the beginning. He stepped from the shower and held his hand out to her, which she took immediately; her legs still had not solidified underneath her. He walked—stark naked and dripping wet—with her towards the bedroom, not even bothering to grab a towel for either of them. Rukia shivered in the transition from the steam of the bathroom to the chill of the hallways. She didn't know if Ichigo noticed but he led her back to the bedroom where he lifted the sheet allowed her to slip under them. She worried slightly that her body was too wet for the bed but Ichigo got in directly after her.

Without saying a word he slipped in next to her and drew her near, Rukia—too tired to realize anything beyond the heat of her body next to his—pressed her head against her lovers' chest and fell into a blissfully warm sleep.

-------

Rukia awoke to the strange sensation of being numb.

Upon a few more moments of examination, she discovered that none of her limbs responded to any of the signals sent out by her brain. She had already tried twice but gave up when she realized she couldn't even feel her fingers. But there was something beneath her. She could feel that. Yes, it was Ichigo, his heartbeat was throbbing steadily below her and his skin was warm and solid.

She wondered if he was awake yet, or even, what time it was. Not that she actually cared anyway… because there was no fucking way she was going to wake up before she was technically able to move.

Sure her brain was working, but her limbs felt like they would burst into flames should she even attempt to budge them.

She wondered if Ichigo was suffering from the same affliction that she was. She could feel his heart beneath her head and heard the even beating so she knew he was alive but did he actually have control of his appendages?

_Best not to think about it_. She thought tiredly, _Too many subliminal messages being sent from my brain to his_.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, smelling Ichigo beneath her.

Wait… too many _what_? _What_ had she just thought?

_Good God I need more sleep_.

She felt him shift beneath her—wait, how had she gotten on top of him in the first place? The last thing she remembered was sleeping on her side _facing _him, not actually resting _above_ of him, oh well, not like she minded anyway. 

As she contemplated whether or not she should attempt to move or just stay still long enough for the strength to seep back into her limbs one of Ichigo's hands rose to set itself on her shoulder while the other went to the top of her head.

It felt nice to have him stroking her hair like that; his hands were rough and large but moved so softly that she could almost mistake them for the hands of an angel.

_Hands of an angel…_ she scoffed inwardly. Ichigo… yeah, last night he had something more like the hands of a devil.

He was moving beneath her. He was trying to get up. He was attempting to gently move her off of his body. She couldn't have that. No one was going to be moving while she couldn't even muster enough strength to wiggle her piggy toe.

"Don't you dare."

Ichigo jumped slightly beneath her. _Well, he should have_, she thought wearily, he couldn't see her eyes because her head was turned away and her breathing hadn't really changed since she had awakened.

_Must… move… head…_ she groaned mentally. With a spurt of what energy she actually had left Rukia turned her head to the side until her chin was resting squarely on his chest and her eyes were staring directly into his. Rukia almost laughed at the sight of his surprised amber orbs, but she held it in.

Sure, he had gotten sex from her, but he wasn't ready for an actual laugh yet.

Ichigo, on the other hand, chuckled deeply in his throat and gave her a soft smile, his hands brushing the wayward hair off of her face once again. "Hi." He whispered softly.

Rukia's eyes blinked twice before they narrowed swiftly, "Don't you 'hi' me Ichigo." Damn, her voice was still feeble. Damn this enervated sense of weakness.

A slight cough came from his throat, Rukia couldn't tell if it was from disbelief or irritation. "Excuse me?" He asked clearly, she could almost smack him for the power she heard in his voice, well, if she could move her hand that is.

_Cool it Kuchiki_, she told herself glumly, _don't make him mad. He gets mad he gets up. Don't do it._

She groaned softly and leaned her head forward, pressing her forehead to the very center of his chest. She swiftly placed a small kiss to his skin and let out a sigh. Rukia felt Ichigo's skin prickle and his hands grip her shoulder tighter.

"Sorry," she whispered, shifting her head to the side again. "Can you just… not move… for… the next three hours?"

The second the last word left her mouth, Rukia was glad she couldn't see Ichigo's face anymore, if she did, she feared she would have seen a completely arrogant smirk covering his entire visage.

It took him another moment to answer, "And why is that?"

Rukia would have to kill him later for the smugness laced through his voice. She shifted her head to the side again so she could see him again. Oh and there it was, the smirk she knew would be there, only this one wasn't vindictive and evil but warm and… dare she say it… loving?

Rukia felt a piece of her crumpled hair fall into her face and she blew it away, "Because…" she began, a hint of a grumble creeping into her voice, "I can't move."

She saw Ichigo blink twice before frowning and pushing another piece of hair from her face. Damn he looked so sexy from this vantage point, all naked and rumpled and oh so edible.

Another smile grew on his face and he snorted softly, "Wore you out, did I?"

Rukia glared at him. "I'll be lucky if I can use my legs by the middle of next year."

"Well they had better start working soon," Ichigo said, his voice growing huskier by the moment, "Because in the middle of the next ten minutes I'm going to want to feel those legs around my waist."

She groaned and pressed her face into his chest. "I can't believe you."

His hands started to run up and down her sides, tickling her ribs but still evoking almost mindless pleasure. Soon, she could feel her breasts prickling into hardness and the inside of her legs become liquid.

"Ichigo…" she moaned, "My God, not now, I need to rest."

"You can always rest later," he said, his hands slid down further and further until they were gripping her buttocks. Rukia moaned softly and felt her limbs begin to shake softly. With her last spurt of energy she jerked to the side and rolled off of him. She had to stop herself before she actually rolled off of the bed but Ichigo's hand grasped her arm before she could fully fall off.

"Damn girl," he chuckled softly, "Are you really that worn out?"

Rukia groaned and buried her head in a pillow in response.

Ichigo sighed and bent down to kiss the nape of her neck. "Alright then. I'm going to go make something to eat."

She felt the bed sink and then rise as Ichigo's weight lifted itself off of it. Rukia heard the rustle of clothes near the foot and dared to shift her body ever so slightly just so she could take a slight peek at Ichigo's naked form.

She had never seen him like this before, completely undressed and gleaming in the sunlight spilling from between the shuttered windows of his bedroom. Droplets of gold ran down his chest and stopped to play in the chiseled lines of his abdomen before continuing down until it wrapped around the entirety of his _well_ endowed length. Rukia's eyes misted over as she remembered how that length had fit inside of her so tightly last night—this morning—_whenever_. 

Then there were his sinewy thighs, leading down to curvaceous and strong calves where the rest of the sun pooled at his feet. His upper body was in shadows but she could still see the bulge of his biceps and the rippling motion of his pectorals. Rukia sighed and remembered how good it had felt to have those strong arms wrapped around her waist as she drifted off into satiated sleep.

She watched him as he drew on his boxers and ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously, Rukia licked her lips and thought of all the things those hands had done to her last night.

He must have sensed her watching him because a moment later he turned around and pinned his gaze to hers.

Rukia's eyes widened and she paid close attention to his face, the strong and soft lips, the sharp nose, the piercing eyes, and the delicate eyebrows—one of which was raised in a slight smirk.

"You sure you're too tired?" Ichigo asked her, his voice growing huskier by the minute.

Rukia swallowed noisily and pressed her face back against the pillows. "Just make me food, Kurosaki." She mumbled.

There was a slight pause. "Was that my last name?" He asked calmly… too calmly, Rukia could hear the edge of wickedness in his voice. "You know what happened last time…" he murmured, taking a step forward and continued, "This time it will be increased by at least ten."

She gave an exasperated sigh and turned her face back to his, "What I meant to say was," she began, she cleared her throat and thought of ways to try and get that hard look off of his face, "Would you please make me something to eat… Ichigo?"

His stern glare evaporated like magic. Swiftly, he climbed back onto the bed and pressed a kiss to Rukia's soft forehead.

She grumbled and turned away from him, "If you're going to start policing everything I say then I'm just going to stop talking."

Ichigo continued to kiss her face and sighed, "Don't do that…" he murmured, "I just love hearing you say my name…" he kissed her lips and she ended up trying to capture them with her own. "The way your mouth forms the syllables… I love it."

He kissed her softly on the tip of her nose and sighed, "So, eggs and toast?"

Rukia could feel her heart pattering in her chest before she nodded softly, "Yes…"

With that, Ichigo smiled and rose from the bed. He turned and exited the room, completely ignoring her surprised and hungry gaze.

Rukia pressed a hand to her chest and swallowed. It was fluttering, she couldn't believe it was actually doing this inside of her chest. The way he said… the way he…

There was just something inside of his _eyes_ that could suck the breath from her lungs and make her feel like she was the only person his gaze was ever meant to meet today. It made her legs shake and her arms tremble.

It was just this damn twanging in her heart that was making her worry. There should be no twanging, it was just sex. Just the most incredible sex of her life but still only sex.

It was just sex… right?

"Do you want jelly on your toast?" He called from the kitchen. "I've got orange, strawberry, grape, and boysenberry… whatever the hell that is."

Rukia groaned and dropped back onto the bed, the softness of the pillow hitting her face and Ichigo's scent once again flaring into her nostrils.

What was she getting herself into?

-------

Rukia screamed into Ichigo's mouth as he captured her lips right before they climaxed. He lurched once more before he convulsed and emptied himself into her.

He delved his tongue into her again, tasting everything in reach before pulling out and kissing her cheek. She was panting and groaning and sweating so much the drops were running speedily down her forehead. He could feel the slick liquid between their bodies as he slowly removed himself from her, breaking their intimate connection.

He wasn't doing too well either, both of his arms were shaking as he tried to keep himself above her body, his heartbeat was throbbing so quickly he feared it would implode, and the sweat was dripping off of him as well as her.

"Christ Rukia," he groaned softly, wanting to roll over and draw her to his chest, but the couch was rather small so he would have ended up falling off and smashing into the glass coffee table.

Rukia moved slightly beneath him and ended up rubbing her stomach against his, the sweat on their skin making it more sensual and irresistible.

"Ichigo," Rukia panted, her hands going up to caress his damp, orange locks, "It's okay, you can lie down."

He nodded softly, his pupils were dilated and his body was shaking uncontrollably. Softly, he leaned down a bit and finally let all of his weight rest on Rukia's small body.

Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and she pressed a kiss to the side of his face. Her eyes were closed and he could feel her lashes against his skin. She didn't complain about his weight, even though he was quite certain that he was at least three times heavier than she. She simply clung to him, her breath tickling his shoulder and her heartbeat thudding against his. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and her stomach kept touching his as she breathed. Her legs were woven into his and her lips were constantly placing butterfly kisses on his face.

He could feel the drowsiness beginning to settle into his eyes, his weariness from the previous night encroaching like a tsunami. But he had to get off of her before they both fell asleep and he ended up crushing her. He groaned and braced himself against the edge of the couch. In one movement he flipped around and placed his back on the other end of the navy couch. Rukia whimpered slightly and he saw her skin prickle as the cold air rushed into his unoccupied spot.

Leaning over, he pulled her up and set her head against the center of his chest. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling close to his naked body before closing her eyes once more.

Ichigo reached down and tugged at the black and red afghan, bringing it up so it covered Rukia up to her shoulders. With a soft smile playing on his face, Ichigo wrapped his arm around her back and placed the other one so his fingers could tightly grip her silken hair.

-------

"So, what I want to know," Rukia said conversationally as she dug her spoon into her ice cream and began to eat it, "Is how you got to be so good at sex. Because seriously, I have never felt this good after sex in a _long_ time."

Ichigo grinned slyly at her, "Which part was your favorite?"

"Not telling," she answered immediately, "Wouldn't want you to think I'm that easy. Now answer the question." She demanded.

Ichigo shrugged and stuck his spoon into the carton as well, "I don't know, I haven't been with an immense number of women so I guess it just comes naturally." There was a smug tone to his voice and a suggestive look in his eyes.

"Bull," Rukia retorted softly. She licked off the remnants of her strawberry ice cream from her spoon and stuck it right back into the container.

Ichigo frowned at her, "That's gross."

Rukia wrinkled her nose at him, "Your tongue has been in my mouth constantly for the past twenty four hours, I hardly think that double dipping my spoon is going to do too much damage."

"You do have a point," he sighed softly, his eyes traveling down to the place where her—his—shirt stopped only a few inches below her hips. She looked so sexy wearing his clothing, not to mention he knew for a fact that she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.

He cocked his head to the side and gave his spoon a final lick, Rukia noticed his quirky eyes and immediately narrowed hers. "What?" She demanded, digging out another spoonful of pink ice cream.

The sides of his mouth rose and he smirked, "Would you let me eat ice cream off your stomach?"

Rukia's already narrowed eyes became slits and she flat-out denied him.

"Why not?" He reasoned, shifting forward slightly, "I mean, I have eaten practically every other part of you."

"There are two things, Ichigo, that I've told myself I'd never be," she retorted smartly, brushing off his previous comment, "One of them is a dining table."

He grinned, "What's the other one?"

She jerked her eyebrow up and stared at him cattily, "That's for me to know, genius."

He wiggled towards her just a bit more and brushed his leg against hers. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?"

She took her leg from his encroaching reach, "Positive."

He sighed and flipped onto his back, the rough carpet scraping into his skin. "It's going to suck when we get back to work."

Rukia followed suit and lay down on her back as well, spoon dangling in her mouth as she continued to eat her ice cream. "And why's that?"

Ichigo sighed, "Because there I can't jump you whenever I want."

Rukia turned her head and gave him an icy glare, "You're not going to keep doing what you've been doing, are you?"

"Like what?"

"Like sticking your hands where they don't belong, dragging me into the copy room to stick your tongue down my throat, touching my legs underneath the desk." She answered, "Things like that."

Rukia could have sworn Ichigo's mouth dropped into a pout. He shifted onto his side and faced her completely, his rigid body making strong outlines in the dim light. "How else am I going to keep from getting a boner?"

"Relieve yourself during your lunch break." She replied shortly. "By _yourself_."

Ichigo chuckled darkly before moving his hand and resting it on the top of her hip. His thumb rubbed against her—his—shirt and seared the skin underneath. She sighed softly and rolled her eyes, "When you get married," she snorted, "You're going to have twelve children simply because of how much you like to screw around."

This caused Ichigo to pause for a moment and frown at her. Rukia knew what he was thinking the moment his eyes took on that strange sheen.

"Oh don't worry," she said nonchalantly as she took another bite of ice cream. "You never know if some whack-jobs drag you into an alley and gang rape you."

Ichigo's eyes widened fractionally. Rukia smirked at him.

"I've been on the pill for years," she told him after a minute, slightly enjoying his reaction. "So don't worry about knocking me up."

"Oh… okay." Ichigo sighed, slightly relieved.

"But you know," she added, "You should have asked me beforehand whether or not I was on it." She turned to him and smirked wickedly, "Just couldn't control yourself, could you?"

Ichigo grinned at her gentle joke, "Around you?" He snickered slightly, "You're lucky you've gotten off this long."

"Come off it," Rukia groaned, sitting up and gathering the remnants of their ice cream tub. "We had sex before we ate the ice cream, we had sex on the couch, we had sex on your kitchen counter—which, by the way, I am never doing again because of how close you got my ass to the piping hot _burner_—and we had sex four times last night. Well, at least I think it was four, I might have passed out." She sighed and stood up, flashing Ichigo a perfect view of her inner thighs, her bundle of midnight curls, and the bare curve of her ass. He could feel himself stirring quite excitedly and had to look away in order to stop. Rukia gathered their ice cream carton and utensils before staring back down at him and giving him an exasperated glare. "What will it take to get you to hibernate for a few hours?"

"Short of a swift kick to the balls right now," Ichigo mused, "I can't think of anything."

"You're insatiable."

"You're loving it."

His answer was so cocky and confident that Rukia had to shake her head. "Contrary to what you might think, Ichigo, not all women enjoy getting jumped every second of the day."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and grinned, "'Not all women' or just Rukia Kuchiki?" He asked. "I happen to know that you like it when I jump you."

"Yes, when I'm mobile."

Ichigo stood up. "You're mobile now."

"Not the point."

He began to walk towards her, his body was tense and ready to spring. Rukia was now looking inside of the refrigerator. She was bending down slightly, her—his—shirt riding up until he could most definitely see the curve of her ass and the tiny hairs covering her delicious lips from his view.

"Rukia," he murmured, his gaze trained hungrily to her taunt bottom. "You're not wearing underwear."

She didn't look back at him and continued rummaging, "Thank you Captain Obvious." She said in annoyance.

Ichigo took another step forward, now painfully aroused and ready to have her any way she wanted. Rukia sighed and stood, the shirt coming back down to cover what he wanted exposed. Ichigo moved without a second thought, in only a moment, her hips were grasped in his hands, her bottom was pressed against his large and growing erection. He heard Rukia gasp loudly and immediately step back, as if trying to push him away from her.

"No panties. No rules." He whispered hotly.

"Not… fair…" She groaned, arching her spine against him.

Ichigo's hands slipped lower and brushed against her pubic hair. Her breaths became shorter almost immediately as his movements became clearer and more precise. His hands brushed a bit lower and tickled her clitoris. She moaned softly and turned her head to the side, capturing his lips in a scintillating kiss. Her mouth tugged at his and she slowly brought her teeth out to grasp the edges of his bottom lip. She dragged it into her mouth and slowly sucked. She felt his erection pressing into her ass as she moved her hands to grip his hips. She was still in front of him, her back to his front, and it was then, as Rukia continued to kiss him senseless, that she realized she wanted to have control.

_Complete_ control.

Rukia shoved backwards and ended up getting Ichigo completely off of her. She flipped around and saw him leaning bracingly against the opposite counter. She panted breathlessly and let a long, slow, smirk grow on her face. Ichigo saw her maniacal grin and narrowed his eyes, wondering just what was going through that wicked head of hers.

She stepped forward just a bit and reached her hand out. Her fingers hooked around the waistband of his boxers and she tugged gently.

"Rukia…" he whispered, "What are you doing?"

She didn't say anything as she continued to tug at his only piece of clothing. The tiny hairs on his body were tickling her fingers as she smirked and jerked her head, indicating that he should follow her.

Ichigo went willingly, his strong legs moving clumsily, his hands constantly reaching forward and falling back, as if he was debating with himself whether or not he should grab her and fuck her on the hallway wall. She could tell that he knew she had a plan in mind.

Rukia's mind grinned evilly as she licked her lips. Ichigo had no idea what she had in store for him. She drew him into his bedroom and continued to pull him until he was standing in front of her.

"Rukia," Ichigo breathed, his hand running up to her shoulders. He gripped her tightly and was about to yank her against him when Rukia placed both of her hands on his chest and pushed him. Hard.

Ichigo landed on his bed flat on his back, his eyes wide in surprise. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth only to stutter, "W-what are you doing Rukia?"

She quirked an eyebrow up at him and cocked her head to the side, her movement were slow and deliberate as she walked forward, step by step.

"I just realized," she said conversationally, placing her hands at the base of her—his—shirt and gripping the ends. "These last couple times," she tugged the shirt up and threw it over her head, "You've been getting to have most of the fun."

A hard glint entered Ichigo's eyes as his gazed roamed her delicious body, "I don't remember you complaining," he said as he tried to sit up.

"Oh no," Rukia continued, coming forward and crawling onto the bed, "Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that you're so dedicated to sex."

Ichigo couldn't breathe as he watched her crawling towards him on all fours.

"But the fact of the matter is," she said as she raised her hand and pressed a singular finger to his chest, with that little finger she pressed him back down onto the bed. "You've been working so hard lately." Her little digit ran circles around his pectoral and he groaned.

"You deserve a break." She murmured, the rest of her hand palming out so she might rub its base against his nipple.

"So what's your plan?" Ichigo muttered, feeling all ten of her fingers skitter down his chest, probe into his bellybutton, and hook themselves in the waistband of his boxers.

"Nothing I'm sure you haven't seen before," she said confidently, slipping the only piece of clothing down his lean legs and tossing them away. Rukia straightened her body and positioned herself so her thighs would drape over his, her buttocks resting lightly on his knees.

It was different seeing him like this, laid out completely before her like a delicious dessert on a tray. She could see the way his fiery orange hair flopped into his face and how his eyes clouded with heated haze whenever he looked at her. She liked trailing her gaze down the ribbed muscles of his body, seeing the sinewy flesh of his arms, the ridges of his stomach, and the tight cords of his legs.

Ah, and she couldn't forget the most important organ of them all; the one that, right now, was stiff and begging to be released.

"See something you like?" He asked hoarsely.

Rukia shivered at the sound of his strained voice and looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow in the process. "And if I do?" Her voice was just as rough and for once, she didn't care if he heard her vulnerability.

"Well," he murmured, "If you see something you like you should take it."

Rukia smirked softly, "I think I will."

And with that, her mouth opened slightly, she leaned down slowly, and drew him into her.

Ichigo immediately lurched and moaned.

Rukia liked the sound of him moaning underneath her. She moved her mouth down a bit more and took him further inside of her, so far that she felt his head touch the back of her throat. This time, it was her turn to moan.

She knew that Ichigo could feel the sounds she made as it traveled through him. He was beginning to groan louder, she could hear him and knew that he was trying to contain his sounds. Ichigo wasn't one to moan _willingly_.

Her thighs clenched together as she felt her core start dripping with juice as she ran her tongue around the tip of him. He was liking this so much and she knew it. Encouraged by his fingers clenching in the sheets and the sweat dripping off of his brow she closed her lips completely at his base and slowly ran her teeth upwards. Ichigo jerked on the bed and released a guttural groan from his throat. Rukia's lips curled up softly and she began to hum, wickedly sending the vibrations through his entire body.

Hell, he might be enjoying this… but she was quite positive that she was enjoying this more.

"Rukia…" he groaned, his voice dry and hoarse as she continued to suck on him.

She thought about answering him, but that would just be too mean, he was close, she could tell.

"Rukia," he said again, his voice filled with more urgency.

She lifted her eyes to his and saw his intense gaze fixated at her. She raised one eyebrow in question and cocked her head to the side, rubbing the inside of her cheek against his erection.

She saw him swallow hard and open his mouth before he said, his voice low and deadly, "I only want to come in one place Rukia, and that's inside of you."

Her eyes widened fractionally. Slowly, she released his gaze and looked downward. She ran her teeth once more over the entirety of his erection before releasing him. The moment her mouth let him go, Ichigo reared up and grappled for her hips. He pulled her forward, removing her thighs from around his knees and grinning as he positioned himself at her opening.

He didn't bring her down on him just yet, first, he grabbed the back of her head and pressed her down into a searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she fought back eagerly, her nails gripping his shoulders until she broke the skin and caused him to bleed.

Her core was hovering above him and she knew that he was suffering, eagerly awaiting release.

Her mouth still fastened hungrily to his, she slid onto him, groaning helplessly as he fit inside of her so completely, so tightly, so deliciously… she loved the way he stretched inside of her body and seemed to touch places she had never known to exist.

Her hands still grasped his shoulders as she began to grind against him. His mouth left hers and his lips began to trail down her jaw and her throat, greedily sucking on her skin as he thrust upwards, increasing the friction between them. Rukia's breathing became desperate as she clung to him, her knees digging into the fabric beneath their bodies. Her chin was on his shoulder, her breasts pushing against his chest, her nails scraping down the planes of his back.

He wasn't going to last much longer, and—to her relief—neither was she; the pressure simply kept building and building until she was certain she was going to explode.

As Rukia continued to gyrate against him her eyes seared white and her body began to tingle. She didn't know how he did this to her, to made her feel so extraordinary that she could barely contain her screams, moans, and climax. With other men, it had taken forever for her to reach the heavenly goal of her squeezing inner walls and rushing juices. With Ichigo she felt so much pleasure that it was all she could do to delay it for a few minutes.

Ichigo, however, didn't seem to mind as he reached his hand down and massaged her clitoris. She let out a startled yelp and felt her insides beginning to shake. She would collapse soon and she knew it.

Rukia jerked her head off of Ichigo's shoulder and grasped his lips with hers; she forced herself into his mouth and screamed when her insides collapsed around him, squeezing and tugging him as she continued to move.

Ichigo soon followed suit, his own climax erupting into her. His satisfied roar was swallowed by her mouth and she whimpered as it traveled through her body. She felt his release as it ran down her legs and slickly slid between her thighs.

Rukia was shaking as she pulled her mouth from his, her lips were raw and puffy as she placed soft kisses on his eyelids and around his mouth. Ichigo, in turn, licked away the sweat on her neck.

Their arms still wrapped around each other, they fell back onto the bed, Rukia on top of Ichigo, his arms wrapped around her back as they soothed away the tightly knotted muscles.

Rukia could feel her eyelids growing heavy as Ichigo pulled himself from her and made sure she was securely encircled in the strength of his arms.

Before she fell asleep she heard him whisper, "Only inside of you."

Rukia fell asleep, content.


	15. Suspicions

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affilates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affilates.**

**(A/N: Th****is is the part of the story that I'm really excited to write. **

**The first couple of chapters dealt with the case, the last few chapters have centered on the IchigoxRukia relationship, and now I'm getting back to the case and the IchigoxRukia relationship. So here we go.**

**Also, I was just told that the line breaks I used in Word aren't showing up here. So if people were confused by that I'm sorry. I'll try and fix it soon!**

**Oh, and one more thing. Thank you all for reviewing! Smiles.**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!)**

**Chapter 14**

"Where are you going?" Ichigo asked, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind his head. His eyes lingered on Rukia's frame as she stood and wrapped her scarf around her neck.

She glanced down at him and shrugged on her coat. "I need to run over to the two eight."

Ichigo quirked his eyebrows up, "Any particular reason?" He asked smoothly. Rukia smirked, her ears picking up the sensitive sounds of… dare she say it, protectiveness?

She shrugged once again and took the keys from his side of the desk, "Something about getting his signature for a transfer form, I don't know, I just know Aizen needs to sign this." She reached for a folder on her desk and pulled out a slip of paper.

Ichigo reached over immediately and snatched it from her grasp, his eyes widening fractionally as he skimmed its contents.

Rukia watched his reaction as he read her signature and then saw where she wanted to transfer to.

His gaze ran up to hers slowly, Rukia felt a chill slip up her spine as they pierced her and ran up and down her body. "You're transferring to the three one?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

She knew he was teasing her but she didn't care. Rukia smirked and leaned down sensually, just enough to make him want to rip off her clothes and screw her on the desk, but not enough to let the others in the office find anything _strange_ about her actions. She noticed Ichigo's eyes dipping down to her chest.

Just as she suspected. Hunger was written on every _inch_ of his face.

Rukia's smirk grew and she delicately jerked the paper out of his hands. "So I can get my own desk." She said softly, her fingers gently touching his. "I'll be back by three."

Ichigo nodded but didn't say a word; Rukia could see him shifting painfully on his desk chair as he watched her go.

The air outside was cold and raw as Rukia exited the three one and walked around the building to get to the cars. She cursed the wind as it rifled through her hair and tried to slink down lower into her scarf.

_Damn January air,_ she thought, her irritated comments keeping her from focusing on how cold the three minute walk was. _Why can't it just be April already?_

The moment Rukia got into the car she turned the heat knobs all the way to the maximum and turned it on, waiting for a moment while the car warmed up. Sighing, she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and took the brake off, pulling out, thought about what she was about to do.

Transfer.

Christ… when she had first come to the three one almost a year ago that had been one of the last thing on her mind. She had been indignant, stubborn, narrow-minded, and downright snappish. She _hated_ having to work with these godforsaken people who were forever _invading_ the two eight's territory. Everything had been about pride back then. There was the pride over the turf-war, the pride over finding her brother's killer, and pride over keeping the greatest distance from her newly-forced-upon partner. She had detested every minute of it, from the crazy-ass orange-hair freak with the sinfully sexy smile to the callous, one-eyed captain.

Now, the score was so twisted Rukia could barely wrap her head around the facts.

So far, she had found respect for Zaraki Kenpachi and his hideously belled hair, she had come to enjoy the presence of the somewhat strange medical examiner (only for a little bit, she couldn't deal with her for large chunks of time) and she had slept with her partner. Well, not just slept with, because the term "slept with" required the act of actually sleeping, and truth be told that was one of the things they had done the least.

The entire situation screamed unethical conduct. Office policy stated that sleeping with one's partner was grounds for a switch, but truthfully, Rukia didn't care.

She had had sex; that was enough for her. Christ, she hadn't had sex for months before she an Ichigo were paired together, and even when she was with him and not screwing him she still hadn't had any relations with anyone else, sexual or otherwise.

But finally, _finally_, she had had sex with him.

She just didn't know why she had waited so long.

Rukia turned on the corner and patiently waited for the light to change to green; her head was propped up by her hand, her elbow resting on the windowsill.

When she thought about it now, why hadn't she said yes earlier? Oh, right… there was her pride. Her fucking pride and the stupid line. Why in the world had she told him about the line? Was it because she wanted to keep some semblance of professional conduct? Maybe…

None of that matter now, the line had been destroyed. It was demolished, decimated, stomped on, trampled, beaten to a pulp, flattened, and completely crushed. No more line no more worries and no more limitations.

She also had a sneaking suspicion that Kenpachi knew about it. He had given her this strange look when she came back into the office after her weekend off with Ichigo. He had simply smirked at her and said, "You look better, you know, less _tense_."

Rukia had glared at him and followed Ichigo to their conjoined desk. She knew he had a smirk on his face the entire time.

And that had been about three weeks ago.

Three weeks of pained days at work, three weeks of wishing to jump Ichigo across their desk, three weeks of riding around in their unmarked car and kissing Ichigo senseless whenever they were positive they had a moment alone, three weeks of clocking out directly on time and rushing home to either his apartment or hers and stripping each others clothes off before their bodies ravished one another on the first hard surface available, or—if they could wait—running into the bedroom and satiating their hunger there.

Three weeks… and now she was finally transferring.

She probably should have done it earlier, after all she barely had anymore connections with the two eight. Renji had stopped calling except for every once in a while, her captain was no longer checking up, the only thing that was really happing was that she was still getting paid by the two eight.

Now she thought of Zaraki Kenpachi as her captain, Orihime Inoue as her medical examiner, and Ichigo Kurosaki as her partner—in more ways that one. She didn't really have much to connect herself with the two eight anymore.

Rukia turned the wheel of the car and blinked when she popped out directly in front of the two eight. That was the funny thing about her when she drove distracted, she still always got where she needed to go. She pulled into a free parking space and wrapped her scarf around her neck before she got out of her exceedingly warm car. Her heavy coat was resting on her shoulders as she shot out into the frigid air and quickly locked the car behind her.

Damn, she was getting too used to being warm all the time. When she was at work there was the heat and when she was at home she was skin to skin with Ichigo… and the heat they created was warmer than anything she had ever experienced before.

Rukia opened the door to the two eight and stepped quickly inside. She closed them behind her and immediately walked down towards Aizen's office, not really wanting to make small talk with anyone she used to work with.

She noticed Renji's desk was vacated and nostalgically looked over at her old space, now covered in tiny girlish items that simply screamed Momo Hinamori.

She sighed softly and shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the coat that now seemed so hot all around her. She could do this. She could do this.

She nodded to a couple of people as she walked by; they acknowledged her but didn't say anything and continued with their work. She quirked her eyebrow up momentarily and wondered if her infamy as a deathly jinx had finally passed.

The captain's office was directly in front of her.

She could do this.

She knocked quietly on the door and waited for the traditional "enter."

"Enter."

Rukia sighed softly, some things never changed; her captain was one of them. Correction, her _old_ captain, not her soon-to-be captain.

She opened the door softly and peeked in, Aizen was sitting at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed softly at the memo he was reading. He looked exactly like she remembered him: shyly confident yet still wearing a winning and trusting smile as well as his quirky glasses he always kept perched on his nose. The entire image reminded her of the better days when she worked at the two eight, before all the mayhem and pain of her brother's death. She cleared her throat softly. "Captain Aizen, sir?"

He looked up immediately and Rukia quirked her eyebrows when she saw him give a huge and welcoming grin.

"Well, if it isn't Rukia Kuchiki!" He exclaimed warmly, "Come to pay us a visit from the old three one, my goodness, it's been so long since I've last seen you. You look better, you know."

"Thank you Captain," Rukia answered humbly, entering the room and shutting the door behind her, "Yes, it has been a long time."

"Too long," he chuckled, motioning to the chair across from him, "Sit. You must stay for a minute."

Rukia stepped tentatively forward, this wasn't going as she had hoped it would. She had simply been looking for a quick in and out, a signature here, a clever comment about how lucky the three one was going to be, a firm handshake, nothing along the lines of trips down memory lane. Nonetheless she seated herself across from her—former—Captain and tried to screw a smile on her face.

It didn't work.

Aizen grinned and leaned back in his chair, "So… how goes it over at the three one? Is everything with Kurosaki working out okay?"

"Ichigo?" She asked, almost biting her tongue for using his first name. She should have known better, she didn't want to insinuate that anything was happening between them. "Um… yes, everything is fine between Detective Kurosaki and myself. We're growing more…well, _in synch _as time goes by."

"Excellent… excellent," he murmured, leaning forward a bit in his chair and rubbing his knees nonchalantly. His expression stayed neutral for a moment before it sobered and he asked, "So… is there any word on your brother's murderer?"

Rukia swallowed softly and shook her head slowly, "No… we, ah, don't have anymore leads. We've been searching, but so far there's nothing."

Aizen nodded grimly and, much to Rukia's surprise, lifted his knee to the top of his desk and set his feet on the edge.

He smiled at her warmly when he noticed her expression, "I did something to my knee while I was running the other day. It hurts like hell so I'm trying to keep it elevated."

Rukia stared at his shoes before nodding slowly and turning her attention back to her captain, her face a bit paler than normal. "Really? I'm so sorry." She said lamely.

Her captain brushed if off with a wave of his hand and sighed, "No worries Kuchiki, I'll be fine. Anyway… I assume you came here for a reason? Anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about?"

She nodded, her head jerked slightly to the side, "Um… yes…" she swallowed and glanced up at her captain, he was smiling at her as if nothing was amiss, Rukia blinked and nodded once again. "I actually wanted you to sign this." She said quietly, reaching into the folder propped in front of her and handing it to Aizen.

He leaned forward a bit and took it from her. Rukia watched his expression carefully as he skimmed the form and raised his eyebrows. Finally, he leveled his eyes with hers and asked softly, "You want to be transferred to the three one?"

"Yes sir." She answered automatically.

Aizen scratched the side of his face, his eyes no longer held any of the loving warmth they had had only a minute before. "Any particular reason?"

Rukia's mind flashed back to Ichigo and how she had answered when she had asked him the exact same question.

She shook her mind back into place and nodded, "Yes sir, there are a few."

Aizen kept his eyes trained on her, "Go on." He said.

Rukia swallowed loudly but kept going. "First of all, sir, I have grown used to working with Detective Ichigo Kurosaki," _and sleeping with him_, her mind snickered at her, "And I believe that my former partner, Detective Abarai is quite content working with Detective Momo Hinamori, I would feel terrible if I disrupted such a pairing." _Since they're sleeping together too._

Aizen nodded calmly and Rukia continued.

"I also have come to feel quite comfortable at the three one, the people there know me now as a member of their team and not just as a visitor, I have been given extra cases by Captain Zaraki Kenpachi and have found him to be an effective and fair administrator, and I also believe that I would be able to do my best work with people who do not see me as the perpetrator of four homicides."

Aizen narrowed his eyes, "No one thinks of you as a jinx anymore Kuchiki."

"I know that sir," she amended quickly, "But people still talk, and should my brother's killer not be found I know that I will carry that stigma for the rest of my professional life." She stopped momentarily and cleared her throat. "I also believe, sir… that I can be happy over at the three one. I've made friends there and, although we might still have our differences, we have grown to trust one another."

Aizen didn't say a word.

Rukia was beginning to sweat under his intense stare. "Plus," she added, in a last ditch attempt to convince him she had viable reasons for transferring, "I'll get my own desk."

Aizen blinked at her twice before breaking out into a large grin and taking a pen off the side of his desk. He sighed and scribbled his name on the sheet, but not before giving her one last look a wounded soldier gives to his enemy. He shook his head then finished signing the paper with a flourish.

"You made some interesting points Kuchiki," he said casually, "And I agree with you."

The iron fist that had been clenching Rukia's heart lifted suddenly. "Thank you sir."

"It will be sad to see you go…" he sighed, leaning back in his chair, "It's also sad to note that I'm losing one of my very best detectives to our most hated rival, but hey," he shrugged and handed her the paper, "I understand if you want your own desk."

Rukia smirked at him, feeling the lighthearted air return to the room, "Don't try and guilt me into coming back." She warned, "I'm not falling for it."

Aizen grinned at her, "Don't worry, I won't. Just keep in mind that I will call and check up on you from time to time. So don't get into any trouble."

Rukia nodded and rose from her chair. "Thank you cap—sir." She amended, nodding her head in acknowledgement. Aizen nodded back and placed his hands behind his head, his thick glasses poking slightly off of the bridge of his nose.

She turned to leave and grasped the doorknob tightly, she had the door halfway open and her body almost outside when she twisted around slightly and frowned at her former captain. "Sir…"

Aizen looked up at her and smile again, "Yes Ms. Kuchiki?"

Rukia bit her lip and willed herself to continue. "Just out of curiosity, who made your shoes? They're gorgeous."

Aizen's grin widened as he looked down at them and chuckled, "You like them? You never took me for a shoe person Kuchiki but I'm glad someone noticed." He moved them around as if to examine them. "Tailor-made by some man in the Swiss Alps I met when I traveled there three years ago. I must have bought at least eight pairs. They're so comfortable I want to be buried in them."

Rukia nodded and forced another smile—smirk—onto her face. "Oh, well they're very beautiful."

"Thank you Kuchiki." He said, nodding towards the door, "You had best be going, they'll need you over at the three one."

Rukia swallowed hard, "Yes sir, of course sir."

She slid her body the rest of the way through the door and immediately felt the moisture she had left on the knob, evidence of her sweating palms and her roiling stomach. Quickly, she made her way to the precinct doors, clutching the folder in her hands, her nails biting into its manila covering.

As soon as she opened the doors she felt the cold wind slapping against her face but she didn't even bother pulling up her scarf. She ran to the car jerked the door open, jabbing the key into the ignition and starting it as fast as she could. Hot air soon blasted out of the conditioning vents and Rukia turned them off. She needed to cool down right now.

It didn't mean anything. They were just shoes. Hell, her Uncle Ukitake had tons of shoes he had bought from the different cities he visited, even her sister, Hisana had bought hundreds of pairs while she lived in Europe. Shoes didn't mean a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

She pulled out of the parking lot and immediately drove to her next destination. The city cemetery. Her stomach—already tied in the largest of knots—was tightening even more and the iron hand returned to clench around her chest as it had while she had been talking with her captain.

Today was the day. January 31st… the one year anniversary of her brother's death.

She parked on the outskirts of the cemetery and once again entered into the cold afternoon air, this time her scarf was wrapped protectively around her neck and her nose. Sighing, she reached back into the backseat of the car and pulled out a bouquet of flowers for her brother, a bottle of sake, and a small glass.

She sighed again as she looked down at the pitiful bouquet and began to walk towards the place she had long-since memorized. She knew she should have gotten him blossoms instead—cherry blossoms actually, as they were his favorite, but it was winter and hardly anything grew in winter as it was. She would come again during spring, she vowed mentally, juggling the bouquet, the bottle, and the glass inside of her hands.

She'd come again and she'd bring an entire cherry blossom tree to plant atop his grave. She'd plant it so that when it grew big enough, the tree would wrap itself around the body of her dead, beloved brother and incorporate his corpse into its cycle of life. Her brother would become the tree, the flower, and the blossom that he had loved most of all.

Rukia neared his crypt in a matter of moments. She felt a tightening in her throat as she read his name across the top of the elegantly carved granite.

_Byakuya Kuchiki, beloved husband and brother._

Rukia sighed and remembered how badly he had always wanted "father" to be one of the attributes listed on his tomb. But it wasn't to be. Hisana had just been too sick.

Swallowed the growing lump in her throat, Rukia bent down and placed the bouquet in front of his tombstone. She bowed her head, murmured a few prayers, and opened the bottle of sake—which had been her brother's favorite drink while he had been alive.

She poured herself a glass and tipped it to his headstone, "Here's to you," she murmured softly before tipping her head back and downing the sharp beverage in one swig.

The burn from the alcohol infiltrated the area behind her eyes and she had to suck in a breath before she could see again. She had never liked to drink that much before, and definitely not hard liquor, but Byakuya had, and that was what mattered.

She poured another glass and saluted the headstone once again. "Drink up." She said quietly before tilting the glass to the side and pouring the glass—then the entirety of the bottle—onto her brother's grave.

She waited for a few moments before reaching her gloved hand forward and lightly touching the cold stone, feeling the frigidity even through the leather of her gloves. She gently caressed the granite and swallowed once again.

"I'll find him, brother," she muttered softly, "I swear to you I will."

Finally, she leaned down, kissed the top of his tomb, and turned to leave, an empty bottle of sake swinging in her hands.

As she walked back to the car, the only thing that came into her mind were Captain Aizen's shoes… how worn they had looked… so overused, so beaten, and yet so comfortable.

So used, in fact, that the rubbery traction had worn off immensely, showing the very lowest point where the rubber was inevitably connected to the sole of the shoe… sewn on by a resident of the Swiss Alps.

Those rubber bottoms… and the dried, red, marks inside of them.

Ichigo tapped his pen on the side of his table and checked his clock for the fiftieth time that hour.

Four twenty seven.

_Four twenty seven!_ And Rukia was still nowhere to be found.

Ichigo continued tapping his pen viciously against the side of his desk, completely neglecting that paperwork that sat before him. Damn it… damn her… damn the stupid clock. Clocks weren't always right. It could be lying to him, maybe his battery had broken or something.

He craned his head to look at the clock on the precinct wall.

Four twenty eight.

_Aha, _Ichigo whispered mentally, _I knew it was lying to me, oh… never mind. Damn it._

But where the hell was she? She said she was supposed to be back by three, three had long since passed and she still wasn't back. What was taking her so long to get a simple signature? Aizen was probably keeping her longer than expected, probably talking her to death with some lame ass story about responsibility and duty. Probably trying to convince her to stay with the two eight just a bit longer… just until they were able to find a suitable place for Momo Hinamori and then she could have her old job back.

Her old job and her old partner.

_Abarai._

Ichigo snarled at the thought. Who knew what those two—Aizen and Rukia—were cooking up at this very moment. They were probably planning to take her away from him and stick him with Momo Hinamori. He shuddered inwardly, god forbid that should ever happen. He just wouldn't be able to deal with someone who didn't have an attitude with the consistency of barbed wire and a touch as soft as an angel.

No, he definitely could not have a switch in partners right now. Not when things were getting so good between him and Rukia.

And he didn't mean _just_ sexually—although that was one of the best parts of their entire relationship. They were also getting to know more about each other as people. It all accumulated into quite nice pillow talk, especially after they had just dozed from an especially exhausting period of physical exertion.

She would tell him about her family—what was left of it anyway—of her exploits with Renji when they were growing up—he tried not to be jealous—her trials at the academy, and she even alluded to her childhood a few times. Never too much though. He knew the subject was painful for her so he tried his best to hold her tighter whenever she mentioned something about one of the foster parents she had stayed with or one of the foster brothers and sisters who hadn't "made it."

Ichigo then took it upon himself to tell her about himself, his arms wrapped around her small form, hugging her tightly as he skin rubbed against his. He'd tell her about his sisters and what he remembered of his mother and father, he'd tell her about his own years at the academy, his friends, his tried-and-failed partners, and his family traditions he kept with his sisters.

After that they'd talk about anything. Literature, movies, television, recent cases, politics… anything they wanted to talk about was said and once they were finished they either slipped peacefully into sleep or began to roam each other's bodies again, ready to touch and taste and feel like they always did.

Things were not, however, dull in his relationship with Rukia Kuchiki. Yes, they had sex at every possible time and kissed each other like there was no tomorrow whenever they were given a few minutes alone… but it was never the same, never perfunctory, never dull. Making love to Rukia Kuchiki was akin to walking outside in the midst of a hurricane. Everything was swirling around you all at once, eliciting feelings you never knew you had, sensations you never knew you could muster, all pounding together until the inevitable release, when the winds died down and the aftermath of what you had just experienced left you cold and panting in the bed.

Sex with Rukia was a force unto itself… and truthfully… Ichigo didn't know how he had gone so long without it. Granted, he hadn't been the one to refuse in the first place, she had been the one who kept spouting all the bull shit about some fucking line… but who was he to judge? She was with him now and nothing was going to change that for a very long time. At least, not if he had anything to say about it.

Ichigo leaned forward at his desk and absentmindedly pulled up a solitaire game on his computer. Now if only Rukia would come back… then they could both leave in exactly thirty two minutes and satiate that hunger growing inside of him.

"My, my, my… seeing Ichigo Kurosaki in thought… never expected to see that happen."

Ichigo's head snapped up as a familiar voice penetrated his self-induced depression. Quickly, he swiveled his head to the side and blinked twice, just to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him.

The woman in front of him grinned toothily, "How ya doing Kurosaki?"

Ichigo's jaw dropped three inches and she laughed, placing her palm on the side of his desk and leaning slightly. "Come on, you're not even gonna say hi?"

"Tatsuki!" He choked, standing up almost immediately, his legs working jerkily against the seat of his chair, pushing it back almost to the wall of the precinct.

She grinned at him again, "In the flesh."

Tatsuki Arisawa, Ichigo's former partner, was now standing right in front of him.

He and she had been partner for nearly three years before Tatsuki had decided to strike out on her own and become a private investigator in a city four hours from where Ichigo worked. But the times that had been together had been wild. They were both fairly green in the experience department and they learned off of one another on how to become better cops and detectives, they collared perps together, ate dinner at each others houses frequently, and they had even introduced each other to their respective families. They had been close friends as well as dynamic partners. By the time Tatsuki wanted out he and she were the best pair in the entire precinct. He had practically begged her not to go but she had insisted, saying that with the chemo treatments her mother needed a detective's salary just wouldn't cut it, so she moved. At first she and Ichigo tried to keep in touch, but with work being so hectic and their lives being a jumbled mess, the two had fallen out of step and just forgotten to call.

But now she was here. His friend and his very first partner.

Not one for spontaneous displays of affection, even Ichigo was surprised when he grinned right back at the lanky, short-haired girl in front of him and reached out to pull her into a large bear-hug.

The door to the precinct clacked in the distance.

"Whoa, whoa… easy there big guy," Tatsuki said laughingly, pulling back a bit and planting a kiss on Ichigo's cheek, "How've you been?"

Ichigo released his former partner and shook his head, "No wonder I didn't recognize the sound of your voice, you've grown an accent since the last time I saw you."

The woman grinned, "Ya like it? I think it gives me a homier touch."

Ichigo shook his head and couldn't help but smile, "It's nice to see you again Tatsuki… what has it been, two—three?—years?"

"Two and a half you big oaf." She chastised jokingly, still chuckling, she looked behind her and then back at Ichigo, "So what, are ya gotten let me sit down?"

"Oh, right, yeah… take a seat." He said, motioning to the chair that Rukia usually occupied.

Tatsuki didn't give it a second thought and she plopped down directly on it. She grimaced for a moment and muttered, "These chairs haven't lost their comfortable touch, have they?"

Ichigo shook his head, "Still shitty as ever."

"I remember having to take so much medication just to get my back to stop hurting." She grumbled, twisting around in her seat, attempting to find a comfortable position in which to sit. "Damn I miss my own chair."

"I'll bet you have a nice and cushy one over there," Ichigo sighed and muttered, "Becoming a private detective in such a large city… Christ…"

Tatsuki stuck her tongue out at him and shrugged, "Hey, just because I've got a leather seat doesn't mean you have to be all jealous."

"Of course it does," he countered ruefully, reaching across his desk and grabbing a can of soda. "What do they pay you over there anyway?"

Tatsuki whistled and shook her head, "Vindictive wives and suspicious husbands will pay _anything_ I want them to pay if I just get them what _they_ want; and most of the time all I have to do is just snap a couple of photos and… poof." She raised her fingers slightly and made a motion like capturing a picture with a camera.

"Lazy bitch."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it Kurosaki." She sneered, leaning back in the chair and wincing slightly.

Ichigo cleared his throat and checked the clock on the side wall. Four thirty seven. Damn, where the hell was Rukia?

"So," he said conversationally, twisting away from the clock and turning his full attention to his former partner, "What brings you into town on this cold January night?" He grinned at her and watched as she rolled her eyes.

"Still not one for small talk. You never change, and never will, you know that Kurosaki?" She shook her head and continued to shift in her seat. "Actually, I'm here on business. Some wealthy client of mine wants me to tail her husband to a private motel somewhere in the upper-class side."

"Hooker?"

"Apparently some type of escort service chick who think's this guy is her ticket out." Tatsuki said in a bored voice before looking back at Ichigo. "Usually I do stake outs alone but…"

One of Ichigo's eyebrows slid upwards on his face. "But…?" He said, egging her on until she said it.

Tatsuki sighed and rolled her head back, "But I was wondering if you'd like to come with."

"On a stake out?" Ichigo asked incredulously as Tatsuki nodded.

"Come on Kurosaki," she said, leaning forward and prodding him in the elbows, "It's not like we've never been on stake-outs before, they can be fun."

Ichigo swallowed and glanced at the clock once again, hoping that Tatsuki wouldn't notice. Damn, four forty three. Where was Rukia? And why wasn't she here already? Ichigo's mind chewed on for a moment when he thought of his options: go home with Rukia and have mind blowing sex on some type of flat surface… or go on a stake out with his ex-partner.

Should he tell her? Would she get angry with him? Would she—what the hell was he thinking? Rukia was a grown woman, she could take care of herself, she didn't need him to check up on her at every minute of everyday. Besides, she could get one night of peace and he could get one night with his friend. It was a win-win situation.

Ichigo jerked his head up and down in the semblance of a nod, "Yeah," he said softly, then gaining strength, "Yeah, why not?"

Tatsuki beamed at him. "That's great Ichigo; I've been wanting to catch up with you. Maybe we could even go for an early dinner before we start the stake-out?" Her voice indicated her statement was a question but Ichigo knew from experience that it was a demand.

He sighed and nodded his head, "Sure, I know this great little Italian place, if you're interested."

Tatsuki wrinkled her nose and stood, "I don't know, I was thinking something more along the lines of Mexican."

Ichigo shrugged again, "I guess so."

"Great," Tatsuki shifted her jacket on her shoulders and motioned for Ichigo to get up, "Come on, Kenpachi won't mind if you clock out a bit early, but then again, he's probably still the same tight-assed, freakishly large—oh, hello."

Ichigo glanced up and felt his heart stop in his chest.

"Hello." Rukia said, her voice devoid of any and all emotions ever known to man.

Silence dominated the moment as Tatsuki Arisawa stared at Rukia Kuchiki, while Ichigo Kurosaki stood there like an interrupting bystander.

It was strange, seeing the two of them face to face—well, not exactly, seeing as how Tatsuki was taller than Rukia, but then again, who wasn't?—former partner with new partner, friend and flame.

Rukia simply blinked at Tatsuki, her eyes never moving away from their desired target. Tatsuki, in turn, stared right back, not to be daunted by the unsuspected presence of one so vertically insignificant.

Thankfully, it was Rukia who made the first move, apparently after noticing that Ichigo had lost the gift of communication. She held out her hand and offered a frosty grimace; it was only after a moment that Ichigo realized she was trying to smile.

"Rukia Kuchiki," she said in a voice clear as church bells, "I'm Detective Kurosaki's partner."

Recognition dawned on Tatsuki's face as she grasped Rukia's hand and looked from her to Ichigo, a smile appearing quite rapidly on her features. She turned back to Rukia and said, "Nice to meet you. So you're the one who now has the unfortunate task of dealing with Ichigo Kurosaki?"

"I'm afraid so," Rukia answered grimly, staring as Tatsuki pumped her hand up and down far more times than she was supposed to.

"I'm Tatsuki Arisawa, Ichigo's old partner," she released Rukia's hand and jerked her head over to his, "We were just going out to grab a quick bite then go on a stake-out, that okay with you?"

Rukia's eyes never left Tatsuki's face as she spoke, "Well, he doesn't need my permission." She broke eye contact and stepped over to her side of the desk, shifting through the papers that Ichigo had attempted to fill out and file.

"We're going to go check out a guy who might be cheating on his wife," Ichigo blurted, finally finding his vocal cords.

Rukia didn't look up, "That's fine. I'm sure you two will have fun."

Silence again. Ichigo paused and glanced at Tatsuki, who twisted her face into an irritated expression then pointed at Rukia. He glanced up at Tatsuki once more just in time to see her mouth the word, "_Ice_."

This time, Ichigo didn't disagree. He nodded in the direction of his former partner and said, "I'll be out in a second Tatsuki, I just need to grab my coat."

"Alright," she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and shrugging her way towards the door to the precinct.

Ichigo waited until she was outside before he turned to Rukia. She was sitting at their desk, shifting around some papers while correcting some mistakes he had made. Her coat was off and her semi-low cut shirt showed him a large amount of creamy skin… but not enough that any other man would look at her with any more interest than he should. And even if they had… Ichigo would have beaten their face in.

"She's my old partner." He said lamely, inching forward just a bit.

Rukia didn't look up, "That's fine."

They were quiet for a moment. Ichigo tapped his foot softly before sitting down in his chair and leaning his upper body across the top. "Rukia…" he said softly.

She still didn't look up.

Ichigo frowned crossly. "Rukia." He said, more insistently this time.

She shuffled some more papers, "Yes?" She said softly.

Ichigo sighed; sometimes… talking to this woman was like talking to a wall. "Could you just look at me for a second?" He asked.

She growled quietly and jerked her head up. Ichigo gulped when he felt the full force of her violet eyes burning into his. "Yes?" She demanded. "Did you want something else?"

Ichigo frowned, "It's nothing, Rukia… we're just grabbing a quick bite and going on a stake-out. It's nothing to get all excited about." _Or jealous_, his mind added nastily. Ichigo beat that part of his brain back and told it to shut up. He knew for a fact that Rukia Kuchiki didn't get _jealous_.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Ichigo, I know that. Please, come on…" She flicked her eyes from one end of the precinct to the other before leaning forward and quirking an eyebrow. "Listen, I'm not your girlfriend and I'm not your guard dog, you can do whatever you want, I really don't care."

Unbeknownst to Rukia, Ichigo's heart stung at her words. Didn't he deserve a bit more than an 'I really don't care'? After all, they had been sleeping with each other for well over two weeks now… sure that wasn't really a lot of time but he thought he should get more than just… well, _that_.

She waved her hand at him and bid him to go, "Don't worry, I'll probably just go home and sleep. It'll be a relief after all of our… _exertions_ these past couple of weeks."

Ichigo nodded slowly and began to rise, a heavy feeling plopping in the center of his chest. "Alright," he said, his tone icier than he had meant it to be, "I'll call you later tonight, maybe around nine."

"You don't need to." She said, her eyes drifting back to her desk.

"I'm going to." Ichigo reasserted.

Rukia sighed, shrugged, shook her head, and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk. Ichigo pursed his lips and nodded once more at her, even though he knew she wasn't looking, and began to walk away. At the door to the precinct he turned back and stared at Rukia, her head was low to the desk, her hair slightly covering her face. She was working diligently, once in a while popping her head up and clicking on the computer.

Ichigo swallowed softly and distantly knew that Tatsuki was waiting for him.

The moment he left, Rukia lifted her head and watched his bright orange head disappear into the darkening afternoon sky.

Ichigo squirmed in the seat next to Tatsuki and cursed for the fiftieth time.

She looked over at him in annoyance and growled, "If you're going to be miserable you shouldn't have come."

Ichigo shook his head and glanced out the window, watching as a non-conspicuous couple entered into the swanky hotel at their right. "I'm not miserable, just bored."

"There's another reason you'll never become a P.I. Kurosaki," Tatsuki said smartly, "You have no patience."

Ichigo frowned at her, "I don't remember you having any patience when I you were stuck as my partner either."

"Of course not," she retaliated, "But in order to be good at this job you need to have a vast amount of willpower and tolerance, which, of course, you don't possess."

"Do we have to sit here all night talking about my faults?" Ichigo inquired nastily.

"What else do we have to talk about?" She asked, positioning her camera to the edge of the cracked window. "We've covered what each of us have been doing for the past three years, we've talked about family, friends, life in general… your faults are the only thing left." She shrugged and grinned at him, "Besides, your imperfections are so numerous that we could spend hours on the topic."

"Shut up." He growled.

"What's got you all outta whack, huh Kurosaki?" She snorted, snapping a few photos of some random people coming into the hotel. She cursed for a moment when they weren't who she wanted and kept her eyes trained on the entrance on the revolving door. She sighed in an irritated fashion but continued to talk to her former partner. "Is it Kenpachi?"

Ichigo shook his head, "No, not Kenpachi, although that fucker is getting more irritating by the day."

"A perp then?" She ventured, "Someone piss you off during an interrogation?"

"Not that either." He ground out, getting tired of her questions.

Tatsuki rounded on him and brought a hand out to slap him on the side of the head, "Would you just tell me already?" She snarled, "I'm getting tired of this intrinsic bullshit."

"You know what," Ichigo countered hotly, "It's none of your fucking business."

"It's a girl isn't it?" Tatsuki demanded, her voice harsh and grating; and Ichigo couldn't help but notice how much she sounded like a jealous girlfriend rather than a furious friend.

"And if it is?" He snapped, folding his arms in front of him like a two-year-old.

"Then you need to tell me about it damn it," she cried, punching him hard in the shoulder, "Come on Ichigo, I don't want to spend the night with you if you're going to be all pissy, so just tell me about it so you can go back to your _regular_ scowling."

Ichigo glowered at her and shifted in his seat, determined to look out of the window for as long as possible and ignore Tatsuki's demand that he actually talk to her. She sighed angrily and plopped back into her seat, angrily jabbing her thumb at the radio buttons as she tried to find some acceptable music to play.

Ichigo didn't know why she thought he would be any different. She knew that he hated opening up to people, especially his friends… he didn't like to show weakness and they knew it, asking him to open up was like asking him to remove his own kidney while he was still conscious. He wouldn't do it. He wasn't going to. He hated—

"Please?"

Silence dominated the air for well over five minutes.

"Her name is Rukia, you know, the woman you met at the precinct…"

He didn't call.

She didn't wait. No… she didn't wait. She wasn't waiting. She'd never wait for him to call like she was some type of abandoned girlfriend or whatnot. She just _happened_ to be up until well after nine o'clock… sitting beside the phone with a few files she wasn't paying attention to resting in her lap.

At least, that's what she was telling her mind to believe right about now.

Cursing for what seemed like the fiftieth time; Rukia picked up her small glass of red wine and emptied it in one swig. First the sake and now the wine… two alcoholic drinks for her in one day, she was on a roll.

Rukia shrugged her shoulders and rocked her head to the side, feeling the muscles in her neck loosen and most of the stress within her slip out of her body.

Her eyes caught sight of the phone.

Damn, the stress was back.

Groaning, Rukia rubbed the back of her neck and tried to tell the nerves in her body to stop working. She just wanted to shut down, just for a night… she wanted to forget about Ichigo and her work and the newest files sitting in her lap. She just wanted to get rid of all of it.

Rukia growled hotly and wondered if she should just get another glass of wine… or maybe the whole body… drink it and pass out.

She'd like that. Maybe she'd wake up with a hangover and not remember what had happened today. Maybe she'd forget that girl who had showed up looking for Ichigo. Maybe she'd forget how the girl had kissed Ichigo on the cheek after she hugged him. Maybe she'd forget all about that disgusting sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach the moment she saw that _woman_ sitting in her desk and talking to _her_ partner.

Well, even if it wasn't technically _her_ desk… yet.

There was one thing she was certain about though, she thought rashly, she never wanted to feel that damn sensation ever again. _Ever_.

She also wanted to forget about the files sitting on her desk. The files she had to coerce out of the hands of a forty two-year-old, single, fat, balding man down in the information room. She had to try and smile at him as she twirled a lock of her hair and tilted her hips slightly to the side. She had to tell him that she was planning a small party for her former captain and she wanted to look up some of his old cop buddies. She had to give him her phone number on a tiny slip of paper and hand it to him before she could get what she wanted.

Granted she wrote the wrong phone number… but that wasn't the point.

Rukia felt a thudding growing in her heart as she looked down at the papers on her lap. She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't. It had been right here.

But… but… it couldn't be. She wouldn't believe it. Not until she had hard evidence in the palm of her hand.

It was just the _photo_. The damn photo that was making her heart squeeze out of panic and her stomach turn to ice.

Rukia blinked and looked down at it once again. There he was, her former captain. He looked about fifteen years younger and was smiling handsomely. The photo was splotchy but she could still make out every grinning face.

Sosuke Aizen was in the center, wearing a street cops' blue uniform, his arms wrapped around the necks of two other people, also wearing police uniforms.

Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen.


	16. Uncomfortable Revelations

Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates… still.**

**(A/N: Good morrow fine people! I have another installment in the Murder My Heart book… novel… thing. Damn, this thing is over 250 pages on Microsoft Word. But I'm happy, it's the most I've written in ages. Smiley!**

**Oh, also, sorry for not responding to most of my reviews. I accidentally deleted them on my email. Crap. I'm such a techno-phobe.**

**Once again, please excuse my strange aversion to page breaks. I think my computer hates them.**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW!!)**

**Chapter 15**

Ichigo yawned widely as he entered the precinct, pushing open the door with his back—as per usual since he was always carrying to cups of steaming coffee in his hands. Today was no exception, straight black for Rukia, straight black for him. He sighed and ended up yawning again. She was so easy to please.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo winced at the sound of his captain's voice drumming into his head. Damn… he didn't know that sleep depravation could do so much damage to his brain, his head was fucking pounding.

"What?" He growled loudly to his captain, not even bothering to look around at him as he walked over to his conjoined desk and set the coffee down, completely ready to greet his partner with a steaming cup of coffee and his usual scowling grin.

He set the coffee down and screwed his face into his classic grimace before looking up and realizing that she wasn't there.

She wasn't there.

"Oi! Kenpachi!" Ichigo immediately called, turning back and scowling for real this time.

"Oh, so now you listen to me?" His boss snickered, suddenly appearing at the irate detective's side and shoving him in the shoulder.

"Yeah," Ichigo answered angrily, his mood souring with the absence of his partner. "Now I listen to you." He pointed blatantly to Rukia's vacant seat. "Where's Kuchiki?"

Kenpachi smirked and raised one eyebrow, "Miss her already?"

"None of your business," Ichigo growled.

"I know you two didn't leave together," Kenpachi chuckled, "You went with Tatsuki."

Ichigo glared at him murderously, "And you would know that… how?"

"I have eyes, Kurosaki," Kenpachi snorted darkly, "I saw her come in, talk to you, etcetera so and so… pity she didn't come and talk to me. That kid had spunk."

"Yeah, so sad for you." Ichigo answered smartly, he pointed his finger onto the ratty desk. "Where's Kuchiki?"

Kenpachi's grin widened only a bit more, "Going by last names are we? Is that what you call her in bed Ichigo?"

His face grew deep red and his ears felt like they would burst into flames. He leaned forward a bit and breathed in so deeply until his lungs felt like they might split. "That is none of your fucking goddamn business."

Kenpachi threw his head back and roared with laughter. Ichigo felt like punching him directly in the gut then ripping his head off, fucking bells and all.

"Don't worry Kurosaki," he managed to wheeze out after so much laughing. "I could truly care less what you two do in the bedroom, just so long as you do your job here."

Ichigo's face, if possible, flamed so heatedly that he was almost positive he could have boiled water on his skin. "Mind your own—"

"Fucking goddamn business," Kenpachi finished on a sigh, "I know, I know… but I'm just so _goddamn_ observant." He smirked and shook his head egotistically, "It's a curse I tell you."

"Just tell me where she is." Ichigo snarled, his temper frayed almost to an end.

"Home." His captain said nonchalantly, waving his hand almost frivolously.

Ichigo's frown deepened to the point of impossibility. "What?"

Kenpachi shrugged, "She called and asked for the day off."

Ichigo blinked, his frown evaporating momentarily… then returning full force. "Rukia doesn't take days off." He said flatly.

It was true. Rukia didn't take days off. In the year—almost—that he had been working with her he had never taken a single day off willingly. Those three days with him didn't count; they had been forced upon her. But Rukia was just Rukia… she didn't take days off. She just _didn't_.

"That's what I said," Kenpachi grunted, "But the third time she asked I finally gave it to her."

"Any reason?" Ichigo asked, confounded by why Rukia was home right now.

"She said she wasn't feeling well." Said Kenpachi, as he looked at the pile of unfinished papers on Ichigo's desk.

"Are you kidding?" The detective snorted, "Two months into working with her she had the flu for five days and _still_ came into work. There's no way she'd call in if she felt like crap."

"Maybe it had something to do with her seeing you and Tatsuki greeting so _affectionately_."

Ichigo's eyes widened fractionally and his head jerked instantly towards his boss, who was currently ignoring him and examining a folder lying on the desk.

"Wait… what did you say?"

Kenpachi didn't look up but Ichigo could see the self-satisfied smirk that passed across his face as Ichigo's reaction unfurled before him.

He flipped a page in the folder, "Oh, you know… the hug and the kiss on the cheek. Nothing special really… but she saw it; not to mention she got so green in the face I thought about taking her picture and sending it to canned vegetable distributors." He looked up at Ichigo and smirked, "You know, good marketing techniques."

Ichigo's jaw dropped slightly, "W-what?"

"Are you kidding me?" Kenpachi leaned against Ichigo's desk and grinned, "When you spoke to her, you know, and told her it was _nothing_, you couldn't feel that green-eyed monster just oozing out of her? Damn boy, you're really thick."

Ichigo couldn't speak, he couldn't even think straight. Kenpachi snickered above him and Ichigo snarled at him, "You're enjoying this."

"Every minute." Kenpachi smirked, "And just before you ask, no, you can't get off work early. You weren't smart enough to actually check on Kuchiki or even call in. So I get to watch you squirm in torment until five o'clock."

Ichigo slammed his palm onto the desk and stood up quickly, his breathing hard and uneven. "Don't you dare toy with me Kenpachi."

Kenpachi glowered at Ichigo before putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him back down. "And don't you dare threaten me, Kurosaki. I'm still your superior officer whether you like it or not." Ichigo's knees buckled underneath the power of his captain's meaty hand. He was forced back into the seat of his chair, a murderous glare on his face the entire time.

Kenpachi snarled at him, although not so much as a threat, but more as an angry type of amusement. "There's still a phone, Kurosaki, and you have email, don't think of it as the end of the world."

"You're a bastard." Ichigo snapped.

"And proud of it." Kenpachi responded, turning around and leaving without another word.

Ichigo immediately sat down and picked up the phone, dialing the number he knew by heart.

"_You have reached the cell phone of Rukia Kuchiki. Leave a message if you have something pertinent to say."_

Ichigo could feel his teeth grinding in his mouth.

"Rukia… call me."

Rukia stood in front of Captain Aizen's house and gulped, slight shots of fear running through her belly at the very thought of what she was about to do.

He lived in a rather expensive looking brownstone building; it was definitely pricier than anything she had ever come across before. She had never thought her former captain could have ever afforded something like this on what the department paid him.

_Maybe he has some money stashed somewhere else._ She thought hopelessly, her gut beginning to tell her things that she had never wanted to think before.

She could do this. It was just like when she had gone into his office and asked for a transfer. She just needed to egg herself on and that was it.

This was just like her transfer to the three one, she told herself, only to have the same voice answer bitterly in her head.

Her transfer had been legal. This wasn't.

Rukia swallowed softly and made a quick scan of the street, it was pretty deserted for this time of day, but then again, Aizen did live on a rather inconspicuous road and it wasn't exactly the most handsome brownstone around. Sure it was a brownstone, but it could definitely use some extra paint around the windowsills and maybe a couple new doorknobs.

Rukia felt her heart patter inside of her chest. Maybe those rusty locks would come in handy. But she wasn't going to take any chances, not with this.

Quickly, she walked out of the light of the street and dove into the darkness of a small alley separating the brownstone from its neighboring building. The stench was rancid but she kept going, feeling the putrid air resonate through her body and cling to her hair. She was going to need a shower after this.

She glanced up, her eyes examining the nearest fire escape and then the nearest window. Rukia pursed her lips and lowered her eyes into a frown, the window was lower than the escape but still too high to reach—or even jump—to.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves she used whenever she dealt with evidence of a crime scene. It was great for not leaving any fingerprints. Slightly annoyed, Rukia glanced around for anything that would help her propel herself to that little window.

Then she spotted it, a trashcan, overflowing with garbage, scrawny cats, and evidently some rats. Rukia wiggled her nose at the grotesque apparatus but grasped the handles of the metallic thing nonetheless; the mammals inhabiting it scampered away as she grunted and heaved the thing towards the base of the window. With another tug she yanked it before the window and groaned about the very prospect of getting on top of it.

Rukia made sure the lid was secure before she pulled over another crate and used that to ease herself onto the top of the grimy, silver, trashcan. It wobbled a bit but she gave more credit to the animals inside the damn thing rather than the fact that she was standing on it.

The window was within her reach, with another glance towards the street Rukia placed her arms on the ledge and lifted herself onto it, half-hoping that the rotted wood didn't break.

Once she was completely—or as much as she could be anyway—situated on the window ledge, Rukia wondered about her second problem: how to open the damn thing.

Normally, in different circumstances, she would have used a crowbar to shimmy the window up, or break a glass pane if she was in an angry mood. After that she would have had to cut the screen and then proceed in as quietly as possible. But this time was different, she couldn't do anything wrong. She couldn't leave anything out of place and she couldn't let anything be disturbed.

She moved her fingers down and tested the wood frame of the window.

It wiggled.

Incredulously, Rukia placed both sets of fingers on the top of the window and shifted the thing up. To her surprise, it kept going; her eyes widened as it opened before her and gave her the perfect view of a bathroom.

Without a screen.

Rukia's eyes flashed at her extreme luck. With a dark chuckle, she curved her body over to check and see that her shoes didn't have any type of street gunk on them and proceeded to slide into the tiny bathroom.

Her feet touched the ground with infinite softness; hardly a sound came out of her as she removed her hands from the ledge and swept her eyes across the entirety of the room. Nothing unusual about it. A toilet, a small shower with a rather bland, beige curtain—on the first floor? Rukia thought with a frown—a sink, and a rack of sports magazines.

Rukia shrugged and swallowed once again, trying to shake off the nervous feelings inside of her. Hell, it wasn't everyday you broke your former bosses fourth amendment right to privacy. But she needed to be sure; she needed to know for certain and she couldn't mess up.

The hallway around her was abandoned and the entire house was quiet as Rukia made her way through all the rooms. Her steps were careful and delicate. She diligently checked behind her every three paces, just to make sure she wasn't leaving any type of trail that he could follow.

His house was completely normal on many standards. It was a premier bachelor pad in Rukia's opinion, any man would adore living here, she snorted and rolled her eyes, at least, she knew Ichigo or Renji would. There was a flat screen television in high definition. Random sports paraphernalia was scattered around the room. And the kitchen was stocked with beer and chips and hotdogs but still possessed a respectable amount of vegetables.

Rukia made her way through each room, noticing every detail about every possible crevice in the place. But this wasn't what she was interested in. She needed to find his study.

Next was a set of creaking steps. Rukia saw they were made of oak and nodded in appreciation of the fact, the brownstone might have been old but it definitely wasn't shabby. She crept up them cautiously, trying not to make even a slight amount of noise.

The next floor closed on her quickly and she immediately inspected the hallway. There were three rooms. One of them looked like another bathroom—if the white, marble, tile, and crumpled towel were any indication. The other was his bedroom; Rukia could see the king-sized bed with burgundy sheets wedged into one corner of the room. The third door was the only one closed in the entire second floor.

She was there in a heartbeat. Mouth dry, she jiggled the knob and found it open, gently pushing it until it acquiesced and revealed the contents to her.

His office. She could feel her palms sweating in the latex as she took a few tentative steps forward. He owned a sleek, mahogany desk that rested in the very center of the room while his top-of-the-line computer stood erect upon it. The room was dim but Rukia didn't even bother to turn on the lights. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway, his carpet was a dark red, his walls were deep brown, and even his windows were shuttered. No… light wouldn't have done anything in this room.

She came forward until she was standing directly in front of his desk. She almost ran her fingers over the small surface but snatched her hand away before she could even do that. She didn't want to disturb even a single speck of dust.

The computer wasn't on but Rukia knew she would need to fix that if she wanted to get anything done.

She pushed the button and waited while the thing warmed up.

Rukia's nerves were frayed to the point where she would have jumped out a window should anyone—or anything—scare her right now. Her hands were tense and her heart was beating with the force of a thundering herd of wild mustangs. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this on edge.

The screen shined with a blue light and Rukia blinked down at it immediately.

She gasped. "No…"

Her eyes bugged softly as she read the glowing words on the screen: 'Please enter your password.'

Rukia could have screamed in frustration. Her heart was certainly beating harder than before. Damn, she was going to pass out if she didn't calm down soon.

Steeling herself to not lose consciousness, Rukia began.

_Aizen_. She pressed enter. 'Sorry, did you forget your password?'

She bit her lip and forced herself not to start making it bleed.

_Sosuke_. Enter again. 'Sorry, did you forget your password?'

_Asosuke_. Again. 'Sorry, did you forget your password?'

"Fuck!" She growled. What else would he put as his fucking password? The man didn't have any pets or any family; wouldn't it just make sense to use his own name?

Rukia snarled viciously and looked down at the drawers to the desk. Her anger began to recede slightly as she realized he might have written down some of his passwords. She carefully wrapped her fingers around the tips of a drawer knob and she tugged softly. Nothing. She pulled on the second one. Nothing. Third. Nothing. She went towards the other side. One, two three, all of them were completely empty.

Rukia growled and viciously kicked it shut with her foot. It clacked shut completely and she growled again.

_Clack_.

She raised her head and looked down at the drawer she had just closed. Her eyes narrowed into a large frown and she pulled it out once again, making sure that her foot didn't leave any marks on the mahogany in the process. She peered into the base of the drawer and quirked an eyebrow up before opening the drawer above it and looking at the bottom.

They were different colors.

She immediately grasped a small pen on the top of the desk and unscrewed the top. Using the ink filter she wiggled the base of the drawer and pushed up the false bottom. Her smirk of satisfaction, however, was cut short by another, almost imperceptible, gasp.

Little bags filled with small amounts of white powder were decorating the bottom of the drawer. Rukia's hands were beginning to shake as she picked up one and examined it.

Cocaine. Just as she had thought.

With a practiced but shaking hand she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small evidence bag and a tiny knife. She removed a little packet from the drawer and untwisted the tiny tie around the top of it. Using her knife she removed a miniscule piece of the white powder and slowly dropped it into the bag by her side.

Rukia barely breathed as she replaced the tie around the top, careful to replicate the exact number of twists and the folded pattern. She dropped the bag back into the drawer and then positioned it to look exactly as she had found it.

Rukia knew her lungs could not take much more of this. Her nerves were frayed to a point where she believed she was going to pass out at the next noise she heard—whether it was loud or not.

Shakily, she pulled herself to her feet, careful not to even touch the desk. Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead as she straightened her clothing and slipped the tiny amount of cocaine into her back pocket. She brushed the moisture from her hairline and looked up, completely ready to leave when her eyes chanced upon something that made her heart stop in its tracks.

"Oh… my… God…" she breathed, willing her lungs to start working again and her heart to start throbbing again.

There, on the wall directly above the door leading out of the room, clearly visible any person sitting directly at the desk, and ornamentally displayed on a small rack, was an ancient sword.

Rukia's legs jerked forward slightly and her eyes widened even further. She moved until she was standing directly underneath it.

The blade was clearly very old. Rust sprinkled the edges and even a bit of the hilt. The majesty of the blade, however, was not lost on something as trivial as rust stains. The gentle curve of the metal, the deadly point, the shimmering hilt, and the distorted color of the entire object was enough to take one's breath away.

Literally.

Rukia felt her hands shaking even harder as she drew a chair over and placed it underneath the blade. She pulled herself up far enough so her head was level with the blade of the sword. She drew out the small knife again and tried to keep it steady as she scraped off a few rust shavings from an unnoticeable section. She caught them in another bag and slowly put it back in her other back pocket.

Somewhere beneath her, the front door clacked open, and the rustling sound of soft footsteps permeated the room.

Rukia's breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound faster than it ever had in her life. _Oh Jesus-fucking-Christ!_ She panicked, pressing her ear against the wood of the door and listening to the quiet footsteps of someone one floor below her. The person was singing softly in a language Rukia didn't recognize, perhaps it was Russian or something like that, not that she was hearing very well anyway, it seemed as if all of the blood in her body rushed up to her ears and distorted any traces of sound left available.

_I need to get out of here_. She thought desperately, the singular phrase kept resonating through her head as she quickly shut the door before her and began to drag the chair back to its spot in front of the desk. She grunted and panted as she lifted the heavy thing to make sure that no marks were left on the carpet. Once it was back in place Rukia whirled around, frantically searching for an exit.

The singing voice was getting louder and Rukia could hear the person coming up the stairs. Her mouth ran dry as cotton as she lunged towards the window and shoved aside the curtain. She lifted the window open—why the hell didn't this house have any screens on it? Not that she was complaining, but still—and furiously wiggled out of the window, feeling a slight rip on the side of her jacket. Rukia didn't have time to think before she grappled for the fire escape. She swirled around and shut the top of the window. The loud noise frightened her slightly but she didn't have the time to worry about that. Next thing she knew she was scaling down the fire escape, her arms and legs tangling in the metal bars; her mouth was dry and her heart was thumping irrationally.

She reached the alleyway quickly and fell to the ground, feeling her legs smarting beneath her and her knees buckling. The pain was doubled with her horribly shaking legs.

Once she was on the ground she bolted, she ran out of the alley without looking at either side to see if anyone noticed her. She kept running. She needed to keep running so she couldn't be found. She had to get out of there before whoever that was peered out the window and saw her rapidly retreating form or her flyaway raven hair. She bolted to the car and once she was inside the driver's side she pressed her hands to the wheel and drew in a ragged breath.

Her breathing was exceedingly harsh—a mix of nerves and fear and panic. She needed to wait. She needed to go. She needed to calm down. Her breathing began to even as she started the car and pulled out of her spot slowly and methodically, she needed to be careful not to arouse anymore unwanted suspicion than she already had… even though she was desperate to get away.

When the speedometer hit forty she began to unwind her body from its neurotic tension it had been suffering under for the last—she checked her watch—twenty minutes. Damn, she had only been in there for twenty fucking minutes and already she felt like thirty years of her life had melted off of her.

Rukia shifted slightly in her seat and felt the two bags pressing against her jeans. She could feel the tiny indentations they made on her flesh and wished they were gone, out of her possession, far away from her.

Only she couldn't let them go. There was too much at stake. But she could wait until the results came in. Only then would she make an _informed_ decision.

She continued to drive, feeling the tension in her body continually rise and fall with every jump and bump of the car. Only after a few minutes of semi-peaceful driving did she hear something vibrate in the cup-holder of her car. Frowning, she looked down at her cell phone.

_Must have forgotten it_. She thought, picking it up with a softly trembling hand and glancing at the cover.

_3 missed calls_. Rukia scowled at the front and flipped it open. _Kurosaki_ was written across the entirety of the list.

Her frown darkened into a glower and she listened to a few of the messages. "Rukia… call me." And that was it.

Her already evil face glowered even more and she flipped the phone closed. He probably wanted to call to _explain _what had happened the other day. But she didn't need an explanation. She wasn't angry or upset with him or anything. He didn't need to explain anything to her.

It began to vibrate again, Ichigo's last name showed on the screen.

Rukia swallowed grimly and threw the phone back into the back of the car.

Ichigo slammed the phone back down and snarled at the freakishly annoying appliance. And that wasn't the only appliance that deserved his malicious attention. The clock on the wall was also absorbing each evil glower sent from his eyes. It was only eleven in the afternoon and already he felt like shooting everyone in sight just so he could go home early.

_If there's no one to work for then I don't have to do any work_. He thought evilly, feeling his firearm at his hip.

His arm itched to grab the phone once again and call her. Damn, he didn't know why he was feeling like this. His stomach was churning with irritation and his head was pounding with thought. He was wondering over and over what he would say to her once she actually picked up the fucking phone. It would be a mix of curses, angry statements, and… he couldn't actually believe he was saying this… apologies.

Fuck. He didn't want to apologize but damn, there was this twisting, roiling, and burning sensation in his stomach that was making him want to go to her, slam her against a wall, and demand that she listen to him, demand that she realize what actually happened, and demand that she forgive him.

It wasn't exactly the pristine apology she might have been expecting but he didn't care. This was what he wanted—and needed—to do, and she needed to listen. She just had to.

He looked at the phone once more and resisted picking it up to call her. Shaking his head, he breathed in deeply and knew that he'd see her tonight.

Rukia creaked open the doors to the three one and swallowed. Fuck, this felt just like breaking into Aizen's house, only worse. She knew that if she even made one speck of her presence known to Ichigo he would pounce on her. After all, if the four calls to her cell phone were any indication, he was either very angry or very annoyed.

She thought it was a mix of both.

Needless to say, Rukia practically mimicked what she had seen of Tom Cruise in a _Mission Impossible_ movie. She couldn't remember which one Ichigo had forced her to watch with him—not that she had been paying much attention anyway, she had been to busy focusing on how close his treacherous hand kept getting to her panties.

Well, whether or not she had seen most of the scenes involving the main character—what had his name been?—sneak around high security buildings, she still moved stealthily and with as little noise as possible.

She rounded the corner and peered out into the main room of the precinct. Her eyes scanned the heads in the sea of computers, phones, and cable wires only to spot him, sitting at his desk, furiously tapping away at his computer. His back was slightly hunched and his eyes were staring intensely at something written on the screen. She continued watching him for a few minutes before his shoulders tensed and his hand shot out to the phone sitting beside him. Her eyes blinked slowly as she watched him dial the numbers she knew were to her cell phone, and surely enough it began to vibrate in her pocket only a second later.

She didn't answer it.

Moment later Ichigo cursed loudly—Rukia could hear it from halfway across the precinct—and slammed the phone back into its cradle.

Swallowing half-heartedly she sidled further into the precinct and carefully made her way to the examiner's office. As she was descending the steps to the very inside of the medical examiner's office she felt the cool air shift onto her skin and lower the temperature of her heated epidermis. Christ, she hadn't even realized she was sweating until right now.

She creaked open the door to the examiner's office and peered inside. There was no one there.

Rukia almost sighed with the amount of relief she felt. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now; she just needed to be alone.

She dug the two baggies out of her pants pockets quickly and after a moment realized that she had even forgotten to take off her latex gloves. Chuckling nervously at her own obliviousness she pulled them off, reveling in the snapping sound of the rubber as they detached themselves from her skin, she threw them away into a nearby trash bin and began searching for a pad and pencil.

_Orihime,_ she scribbled, once she had found an adequate scrap of paper and a function pen, _please compare these samples with the samples of cocaine taken from Nanao Ise's crime scene as well as the rust found in Byakuya Kuchiki's body from where he was stabbed. Please try and keep this under the radar, these weren't exactly obtained properly._ _Thank you, Rukia K_.

Rukia drew in a shuddering breath as she took the samples and placed them—along with the note—inside the drawer where Orihime kept her lunch. Rukia knew she would see it and she most definitely knew that she would examine these scraps; it was nothing if not a favor to her so she knew that Orihime would comply.

Rukia drew in a deep breath and pressed a shaking hand to her forehead.

It was done. It was over. There was nothing more to do for now.

She just had to wait.

Ichigo glanced up at the clock and then glanced to his captain's door. It was exactly four fifty five and Ichigo was already packed up. His foot was jiggling slightly up and down while he closed his eyes and waited patiently for the damn clock to catch up with where his mind was.

Christ… who knew how mad she was right now… why the hell was she even home today… and… and…

Fuck.

Four fifty eight.

Ichigo heard a growl coming from the corner of the precinct and he glanced up. Kenpachi was practically snarling at him, sending the whole weight of his malicious glare over in Ichigo's direction without precedence or warning.

Ichigo scowled at him, "Do you want something?" He demanded sharply.

Kenpachi's eyes narrowed even more and his head twitched towards the door. "Just get out of here before you make me want to kill you."

Ichigo was gone in less than a minute.

Rukia peeled back the flimsy plastic cover of a frozen dinner and popped open the door of the microwave. She sighed and read how long to cook the damn thing before punching the numbers into the keypad and listening to the sound of the humming appliance.

Sighing again, she rolled her head to the back of her neck and raised her hand to rub it. She needed to unwind… she was still too tense from the day. She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock before wrinkling her nose and frowning, it was really too early to be having dinner—only a quarter after five—but she was tired, she was hungry, she was irritated, and she wanted to go to bed soon.

The minutes finished up on the microwave at the same time a hard pounding sound permeated through the house.

She groaned and lolled her head to the side once more, fitfully throwing her body in the direction of the door; who the hell was it this time, she wondered angrily, tossing the locks off and placing her hand on the knob, and why couldn't she just be alone for a few hours? Hell, even a few minutes would do!

She swung the door open, completely prepared to give whoever it was a furious scowl and a nasty verbal assault, but when she braced the door with her hand and turned to glare at the person intruding her mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed even more.

Ichigo returned the glare but did not take a step further into her apartment.

Rukia's eyes never left his face as she released the door and crossed her arms over her chest; she raised one eyebrow and said, "Did you want something?"

There was no pause between her question and his response. "Actually," he said, his voice low and hard, "I did have a question, perhaps you could answer it?"

"And that question would be?" She prompted, completely ready to slam the door in his face should she not like what he was about to say.

"Did you suddenly, in the space of twenty four hours, develop a sudden dislike of all personal electronics?" He demanded softly, "Like, I don't know, say… your cell phone?"

Rukia's eyes were slits of anger, "Perhaps I should have asked you the same thing last night." She spat as she turned on her heel and clomped into her kitchen. She heard Ichigo follow her inside and shut the door behind him.

Not that she cared if he was here right now; she told herself furiously, she was well within her rights to be angry at him. He had said he was going to call and he didn't, that meant that he lied to her, there was nothing more to it than that. Her boiling blood was not due to the presence of Tatsuki Arisawa in the car with him. Definitely not. She came into the kitchen and scowled over her shoulder. It would be beneficial to him if he just left before things got out of her control.

Like now.

"I wasn't the one who didn't answer the phone throughout the day or even bother to return the messages." He snarled shortly.

Rukia's back was still turned to him and she was viciously stabbing the microwave with her pointer finger. Indecipherable numbers appeared on the screen but she pressed the start button anyway.

"Didn't realize you had become a stalker in such a short time," Rukia snickered, her voice coming out nastier than she would have wanted.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ichigo demanded, taking a step forward and grabbing her arm. He twisted her around and she instantly pushed him away. His feet skidded against the tiles of the kitchen as he fell backwards, his back slamming against the counter in the process.

"My _problem_?" Rukia hissed, "I don't have a _problem_, Ichigo, other than the fact that you are standing in my kitchen right now."

"Listen," he said just as angrily, "I came here to apologize for what you saw last night, okay?"

"'What I saw last night?'" She repeated, tasting the disgusting words on her tongue as they rippled out poisonously. "I didn't see _anything_ last night, Ichigo, at least, nothing that would make me upset."

"Kenpachi told me that you saw Tatsuki kiss my cheek," he said clearly.

"Like I care about that." Rukia shot back.

"I think you do."

"I don't care what you think, Ichigo," she said, her voice simply oozing with hostility. She flipped her body around, her cheeks were flushed with anger she didn't know she had possessed, the pit of her stomach was fuming with something she told herself _wasn't_ jealousy, and the lids of her eyes were narrowed to the point of needle-like sharpness. She knew Ichigo could see all of this, she knew that he was watching her and gauging her actions, she knew all of this… but she didn't fucking care.

She took a step forward, "In fact, Ichigo, I don't give a shit who kisses your cheek. I don't care who else fucks you in bed. And I most certainly _do not_ care about some half-assed idea of an apology you were prepared to give me."

He took a step forward, "Everything about you says differently."

"Well then you had better stop paying attention to that and start paying attention to what I'm saying now." She growled.

Ichigo's nose wrinkled in disgust and he narrowed his gaze to form one of the angriest scowls Rukia had ever seen him wear.

"Well what do you know," he said in a gravelly voice, "The only cold Kuchiki we have _isn't _the one stuck in the fucking ground."

Within the next second Rukia hand was stinging and the right side of Ichigo's face was burning. His head remained immobile for a moment, an angry red spot forming on his cheek as Rukia curled her hand into a fist and clenched it at her side.

Slowly, his face began to turn towards her. She watched him as she noticed his tense body language. His muscles were bunched, his body was tight, and his jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it would break.

Her face was hot and red and her breasts were heaving up and down in the hurried motions of breathing. Her eyes were pinned on Ichigo as he turned his face to look at her; anger and furious passion splattered his features, his eyes were practically gleaming with it.

Then Rukia's hands were moving up again, this time to tightly grip the hair on the back of his head, her eyes never left his face as she pulled him forcefully down and slammed his lips against her open mouth.

Ichigo's lips opened immediately and Rukia invaded without a second thought, only this time there was no gentleness about it, there were no tender butterfly kisses, there were no shy licks, there were no innocent probes; this was complete and utter dominance of a kiss, meant for one purpose and one purpose alone: to satisfy and quench the burning and the pain inside of Rukia Kuchiki.

She didn't want him to be gentle, she didn't want him to love her with tenderness and slowly building passion, she didn't want him to hold her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings into her ear while she dozed into a peaceful sleep. She did not want the fear and the danger that came within the safety of his arms. She did not want to feel the stirring in her heart and the throbbing in her chest whenever she saw him sleeping beside her. She did not want him to be her missing piece. She did not want to need him.

What she wanted was pain and pleasure combined in such a dizzying rush that nothing of this nature could ever be thought of again. She wanted him to slam inside of her so she would cry out in the futility of it all. She wanted him to take her. She wanted him to take her selfishly and without thought to her own needs and wants. She wanted him to forgo her own considerations and demand her body like a stranger, drunk from a night of loud music and alcohol. She wanted him to be like any other man. She wanted him to be a nameless face without defining characteristics or anything that would set him apart from the others.

But most of all… most of all… She wanted to stop falling in love with him.

Ichigo's hands were at her waist, roughly grappling her and pulling her up to sit on the counter. Rukia's mouth never left his and the moment her ass connected with the stone of the countertop she bit down hard on his lip, breaking the skin and causing him to bleed between their conjoined mouths.

If Ichigo even registered the bite he showed no signs; his body was attacking hers, his mouth was pressed so hard to hers that her head slammed back against the cabinets, holding there for as long as he was kissing her. One of his hands was wrapped roughly around her bottom with the other forced her legs apart so they rested on either side of his hips. Rukia snarled into the kiss as she drew up both of her legs and slammed them against the backs of his thighs and compressed her own tightly around his hips, simultaneously grinding herself against him.

Ichigo's hand grappled for her breast and he squeezed it just how she wanted it. His strong fingers gripped her hard enough that she knew there would be a bruise, even through the layers of clothing she was currently wearing.

Then her hands were clawing at his chest, scratching him through the flimsy cotton of his shirt and then finally finding the ends. She viciously pulled it upwards and broke their scintillating kiss long enough for her to yank it over his head and throw it away.

He growled as her hands raked down his chest. It was hard enough to leave dangerous red marks and even to draw blood. But Rukia didn't care. She didn't want him to be soft so she wasn't going to be either.

She continued to kiss him, twice more biting his lips before he snapped and bit her back, his teeth penetrating the soft flesh of her bottom lip and drawing out the sweet blood that would end up staining both of them.

Then his hands were off of her hips and her breasts and tugging at the collar of her button-down blouse. She snarled into him as he began to fumble with the circular, plastic beads, in one swift move she disentangled herself from his mouth and glared up into his eyes, a furious gleam was present in each iris and was further accentuated by the slow drip of crimson down her chin and neck.

"Rip it," she growled, licking her bottom lip and swiping up some of her own blood. Ichigo's eyes narrowed and within a second his mouth was back on hers, the back of her head pressing against the cabinets.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the definite ripping sound of her shirt and the clink of buttons as they scattered about the floor. Rukia's hands had tightened around Ichigo's lean sides and were making their way down to his belt buckle when the sleeves of her blouse constricted around her arms and pulled her wrists back behind her.

Her mouth left his and her eyes immediately widened as she realized she had also buttoned the cuffs of her shirt. Cursing audibly she wiggled around slightly, attempting to find a way to get her hands out of this damned trapped position behind her.

Ichigo, it seemed, had hardly noticed her distress and was too busy ripping the front of her bra off, so the lace cups that covered her bud-like nipples fell to the side, leaving her completely open to his gaze and his mouth.

He lunged at her without precedent. His tongue wrapped around one of her nipples and sucked hard, his teeth biting and nipping at the nub until Rukia knew she would not be able to feel her breasts for another week. His hands assisted in the job and kneaded the neglected mound harshly; palming her mulberry nipple and squeezing her so hard it was all Rukia could do not to scream out in sickly twisted pleasure.

The moment his mouth switched from one breast to the other Rukia freed her hands, the buttons now another accessory for her countertop. Her fingers immediately gripped his hair and she groaned loudly; the feel of his mouth and the sensations he was eliciting were too much…

Snarling slightly, Rukia's fingers tugged at his hair and made his mouth relinquish her abused breast before she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away. His body hit the edge of the opposite counter and Rukia immediately jumped down from her perch. Throwing him a singular, demanding, and hungry glance, she turned her back on him and proceeded to stride towards her bedroom.

He followed her without a word and already had his buckle off and thrown into the hallway before they were close to her mattress and sheets.

Rukia didn't bother turning on the lights as she shoved off her torn shirt and ruined bra, in a deft move she unbuttoned her pants and slipped them—along with her panties—down her smooth legs, until they were pooling on the floor.

Ichigo didn't waste any time either, his shoes and socks disappeared, crumpled under the heap that was his pants and boxers, now simply lying in a pile on the floor.

She didn't look back at him as she sat on the bed and turned herself so her back was to the headboard and her head was near the pillows. She saw him standing only a few feet from her and she narrowed her eyes, taking in his tense body, his bloody lips, his engorged erection, and his heavy breathing.

Slowly, as if unwrapping a long-awaited gift, Rukia pulled her knees up to an angle and opened them, revealing her intimate center to the hungrily staring Ichigo.

It wasn't a request… it was a _demand_.

He was inside her in a matter of seconds. His first powerful thrust nearly sent her over the edge and into the blinding blackness that was unconsciousness. She shrieked beneath him as he pulled out and slammed back into her with more force than she had ever felt in her life. She lay, gasping and panting as he pummeled into her, destroying her insides and wrecking havoc on her nerves as ever shot of pain, pleasure, and downright insanity were sent flying through her veins.

The pressure built inside of her like nothing she had ever felt before. In only a matter of minutes she was clawing at Ichigo's back, her nails drawing more blood, while her mouth desperately sought his. He complied and immediately forced his tongue into her, tasting her in a moment of ecstasy unlike any other either of them had ever experienced.

She catapulted over the edge and he followed, slamming into her with every last ounce of energy he had before roaring and collapsing to her side.

Rukia lay there panting for what seemed like hours, her entire body was shaking and she knew that it was not just from the experience she and Ichigo had just shared. Everything seemed to be crashing down on her at once and it was all she could do just to keep it within herself.

Whether Ichigo noticed her shaking or not, he did not leave her side. Instead, he grasped her arm tightly and pulled her to him so her trembling form was pressed tightly to his. His grip was firm but kind as he molded her to him and tucked her head under his chin.

There was no tenderness in his actions, Rukia noted as he clung to her. There was only desperation.

It was at that moment that Rukia realized she was in far too deep.


	17. Playing With Fire

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE!!**

**Sorry for the late update. I was at a Paramore/Jimmy Eat World concert this weekend. It was AWESOME!!**

**Please enjoy this chapter. And… um… please don't kill me when you read the ending. Grins sheepishly**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW—ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE YOU!!)**

**Chapter 16**

Ichigo awoke to the painful feeling of burning lacerations down his back, throbbing bites on his lip, and a bruising ache on every surface of his genitals.

He shifted slightly and groaned as the parts of him that had been subjected to painful injury were moved. Damn, it felt like he was falling off, piece by piece whenever he budged even the slightest.

His skin brushed against something soft lying next to him. Warily, he cracked his eyes open and peered into the inky blackness of the room.

He saw her body resting beside him in the darkness of the room. She was lying on her stomach, her face turned towards him as she slept fitfully. Her face was frowning and she was making small noises of discomfort as she twitched next to him. Her skin was illuminated in the ebony air and Ichigo's eyes slid up the curve of her spine and then to her delicate shoulders. Her shining locks fell over them and blended in almost completely to the darkened night.

She grimaced in her sleep and he drew in a deep breath as he watched a shiver run through her spine and over her body. Gentle goose bumps rose on her arms and Ichigo frowned immediately. Silently, he reached down to the discarded covers on the bed and pulled them up. They covered her body and he watched her shift slightly; her arms were crumpled underneath herself and she slowly scrunched herself in tighter.

Ichigo shook his head softly and slowly wrapped his arms under her waist and pulled her towards him, he winced as the injured skin on his back stretched but he ignored it, careful to keep his mind only trained on her.

She sighed gently as her body connected with his and his warm heat seeped into her. Ichigo wrapped his hands around her back and locked her to him. He could now feel her heart beating against his. He could see the tired, purple shadows under his eyes. He could see her slightly injured lip—he raised his hand and ran his thumb over the bottom one, feeling the small slit on her delicate skin. He furrowed his brow and sighed when he remembered that he was the one who had done that to her.

Her arms were pressed against his chest; her fingers splayed and resting softly as she continued to sleep unsteadily.

Ichigo looked down at her silently, feeling the heavy weight of what had occurred between them rest on his shoulders.

He had felt her pain and anger as she slammed him to her and kissed him, bit him, and scratched him beyond the extent of their normal love making. He had heard every one of her demands—both spoken and unspoken—as he took her violently on the bed he was now sleeping in. He had felt her body shaking once they were finished. He had realized that she was attempting to bottle up every emotion she was feeling.

He now knew that their combative sexual session was her way of communicating that something was wrong and that she wanted desperately to tell him but… she just couldn't… not yet.

Ichigo reached down and drew up her hand, entwining her fingers as he pulled them up and kissed each one. He rubbed his nose against them and sighed into her palm, his hot breath leaving a path of moisture in its wake.

He wanted so badly for her to trust him. If she would just tell him that what happening… he knew that both of them would feel like a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. Hell, one would definitely be gone from his heart. He would be released of the burden of distrust and she would be liberated from the pain and suffering she was feeling.

He continued caressing her fingers and paused for a moment on the third tiny digit of her left hand, rolling it slightly between his as she slept. For a moment he wondered what it would be like if she had a single band of unmarred gold slipped around this finger. Just a simple band to match the one that would be on his own finger. Would she have been different around him? Would she trust him more? Would she smile?

Ichigo watched her as she mumbled softly in her sleep and curled her tiny hand around his. He grinned softly as she blinked open her eyes and blearily looked around to see where she was.

He saw her eyes connect with his face and trail down his unclothed body, down to the point where the blanket covered their lower-halves. He watched her as she looked back up and examined his face. He saw her frown slightly and felt her arms move from their position between their bodies. Her hands appeared by his face and gently moved over the three cuts on his mouth and then lower to trace the scratches her nails had made. His gaze followed that of her hands and she rested them on his chest.

He heard her sigh softly and then felt her forehead press against the solid muscle of his chest.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

Ichigo drew in a deep breath and brought her body closer to his. "It's okay."

"No," she said, shaking her head against him, her hair lightly tickling him, "It's not." She raised her eyes to his, "I'm sorry for everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry about it."

She snorted softly, shook her head, and answered sarcastically. "Yeah, because I'm not one to worry."

"You know what I mean." He said, his hands running across the planes of her back. "Just… Christ, Rukia…" he paused and bent his head so he could look down at her, unbidden concern etched in his eyes, "What in the world made you do that?"

She didn't say anything and just buried her face in his chest.

"Rukia," Ichigo said softly, "Don't… don't do that."

"Ichigo," she murmured, "I can't."

His voice constricted in his throat. "Can't or won't?" He asked her.

"Ichigo," she shook her head, her hair whispering into his face, "Please… it's not—it's not really… safe."

_That_ caught Ichigo's attention.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back gently. She tried to cling to him and keep pressing her face into his chest but he ended up pulling her away. Her chest was naked and Ichigo had to remind himself that they were indeed having a serious conversation and this was not the best time to be staring at her breasts. His eyes met hers and he stared into them deeply.

His face was stern and scowling as he ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the goose bump rise, although whether it was from apprehension or his touch he had no idea.

She looked away from him almost shamefully. Ichigo frowned at her face and brought his hand up under her chin, tilting her face upwards so she would be forced to meet his gaze.

His voice was deadly serious, belying the tender heat of his body or the gentleness of his touch. "Rukia," he said in his deep voice, "If something dangerous is going on you need to tell me."

She snorted sullenly, "No I don't."

He jerked her shoulders just a bit and she glared at him, all traces of her former remorse gone from her voice. His eyes narrowed just a bit but she didn't move away. She almost seemed determined to stare him down.

Ichigo drew in a deep breath and shook his head; he hadn't wanted to play this card. He stared at her and said slowly, "As a person, you're right, you don't have to tell me anything. As a lover, you're right again. And I'm guessing what I want you to say is not considered proper pillow talk."

"Damn straight." She muttered and opened her mouth to speak again when Ichigo silenced her.

"I wasn't finished." He cut her off and she glared at him, his hands ran up her arms again and her furious expression almost vanished. "But," he continued, "As your partner and fellow detective… you've got to tell me everything you know."

Rukia's eyes widened and she slid slightly away from him. "That's low."

He shrugged, "I know. But if that's the only way then…"

"Then maybe I'll just transfer back to the two eight and—and…" Her words caught in her throat and the muscles in her form tightened instantaneously. Ichigo noted the change with a furrow of his brow and a slight lean of his body.

"Rukia…" he murmured, "What is it?"

She was silent for a full minute before she shook her head feverishly and disentangled her limbs from his. He tried to catch her in order to pull her back and demand that she tell him what the hell was going on, but she was too quick and before he could blink she was walking across the room to her bathroom door. He watched as she grabbed her bathrobe from a peg on the back, slipped her hands through the silk arms, and fastened the knot around her tiny waist.

She turned to him and drew in a deep, shaky, breath. "I-I'm going to go make tea… or something like that." With that, she twisted towards the door and exited. Ichigo listened to her footsteps for a minute in disbelief. Had she just… she was walking out… _what_?

Cursing, he threw the covers off of his naked body and grabbed his discarded jeans. Pulling them up to his cut waist, he frowned and drew in a deep breath. She must be carrying something heavy for her to be acting like she was. Hell, it wasn't everyday that Rukia Kuchiki was so rattled she avoided speaking up until the point of running away.

His soft jeans were caressing the skin on his legs as he moved into the kitchen. He could hear the clinking rattle of pots and pans as Rukia shifted around the room, cursing lightly as she tried to locate tea bags. Ichigo simply leaned against the threshold frame and watched.

She was reaching for cups while the water heated when she breathed in deeply and said, "I broke into Sosuke Aizen's house today."

Ichigo's expression stayed neutral. "Of course, and I had a lunch date with the Tooth Fairy."

"I went around his house and up to his study." She said, completely ignoring him. "I went to his desk and tried to open his computer but I didn't have enough time to figure out the right password. So I went looking through his desk drawers." She turned to him and swallowed with difficulty. "He has a very nice desk," her voice was hoarse, "Its mahogany, a very deep brown, almost red actually."

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly and his body began to build in tension as he realized that this was no joke.

"I found—in the last drawer, left side—a false bottom. There were small packets of cocaine in it, there only enough in each for one high but there were about twenty of them. I took a sample."

Ichigo took a step forward, his eyes wider than before.

Her body coiled as he came closer but she continued. "I stood up and I looked across the room. A-above the doorframe was a very old k-katana on a small support… _thing_. I took a sample of the rust on it as well."

He was shaking his head, his mouth was open, and his face was filled with shock.

"I snuck into the three one and gave the samples for Orihime to examine. I told her to do it off the record because it was just something important to me. Then I left without speaking to you and came here."

"Rukia," he breathed.

"I've been going over Aizen's files that I conned from the records office." She was shaking visibly as she turned to him and said, "Did you know that he did a stint in narcotics working undercover? Once he was pulled out he had to go into rehab because of an addition to crack cocaine. He told his commanding officer that the dealers had made him take it so they didn't find him at fault."

He came over to her and grasped her by the elbows, feeling her trembling as she kept talking.

"Did you also know," she blanched, "That he spent five years trying to crack down on the dealers of black market antiques? The items mostly disappear when they're traveling from one museum to another and it was Aizen led the task force on finding them. He dealt mostly in ancient Japanese antiquities, like—like swords."

He grasped her tightly to his chest and held her as she shook. He tucked her head soothingly beneath his chin and rubbed her back, her skin had warmed it but Ichigo knew for a fact that she felt nothing but cold right now.

Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her face to his chest. Her eyes were dry but glazed as she clung to him. She tried to focus clearly on the thudding of his heart and the gentle thumping in her ear drum. Oddly enough, it was calming her, this sense of being beside him and listening to him simply be _alive_. It was comforting her entire essence and making her feel like she was safe, secure, and utterly stable.

His hands continued rubbing between her shoulders as he whispered into her hair, "Rukia… fuck, do you know what you've done?"

She chuckled dryly and closed her eyes against the bare skin of his muscular front. Her breath leaving a soft trail of moisture on the fine hairs.

Ichigo grasped her tighter, "Not to mention how many laws—and ethical codes of conduct—you've broken."

"Don't forget an amendment," Rukia sighed, placing her ear directly in front of Ichigo's heart. The soft beating was enough to set her soul at ease. However, the beat was faster than it should have been, Rukia contemplated looking up and seeing his face… but she couldn't, not now.

"That's right, the fourth." He laughed, although his laugh didn't sound happy or even humorous, it was nervous and resulted in the tightening of his arms around her.

She breathed in shakily, her nerves still not ready to stop panicking. "It all fits Ichigo."

She heard—and felt—his heartbeat quicken. "Don't say that."

"But it does."

"I know… I know…"

"But he's—"

"I know."

"How could he even—?"

"I know."

Rukia bit her bottom lip and ran her tongue over the small incision she felt near the bottom. She swallowed fitfully and heard her teapot begin to screech on the stove. She didn't want to let go of Ichigo but letting her home burn down was not a viable option either. Sighing softly, she released her hands from his back and slowly moved away from him. She was not the only one reluctant to release her hold either, Ichigo's hands lingered on her body as she turned to the stove and grabbed the handle of the pot. As she poured the tea his fingers ran over the tops of her shoulders, the middle of her back, and the sides of her hips. He didn't seem to want to lose contact with her, even for a single second.

She shifted and handed one of the cups to Ichigo. He took it and grasped her vacant hand in his. Gently, he tugged her towards the empty kitchen table and took the seat out when she began to sit. He sat down next to her and discreetly sipped his steaming tea.

They sat in silence without so much as another word about their troubling situation or the information that Rukia had just disclosed. They simply sat, drinking hot tea, until their cups were empty and the air was heavy with unanswered questions.

Rukia was the first to break the long stream of quiet.

"It fits… Ichigo. It all fits." She whispered.

"It's not like anyone would suspect him either," he murmured in response, bringing a hand up to run it through his unruly hair. "I mean, he's a _captain_." He shot her a defensive look and muttered, "Hypothetically, of course."

"I don't know if he even has an alibi." Rukia said as she placed a trembling hand near her temple. "For any of them." She paused for a moment before adding, "Hypothetically speaking."

Ichigo looked up at her and shook his head, "But we don't know, okay? We don't."

She was silent.

"He doesn't seem to have any reason to want them dead," Ichigo reasoned, his voice tense and realistic, "There seems to be no motive for these crimes and even if it _was_ Aizen I just can't see why he would want to kill some of his best detectives."

"Maybe they were onto something." Rukia said softly, "Maybe they found something he didn't want to get out. Maybe the first two m-murders were to cover something up and the others were… _pleasure_ killings." She raised her eyes to his. "You know how serial killers are, they escalate. They get more violent the more they kill."

"But the killings stopped after Nanao Ise," Ichigo told her just as softly, "She was the last victim and that was well over a few months ago. Not to mention the style of the killings, if anything, decreased after the murder of your brother."

Rukia nodded and swallowed painfully as Ichigo continued. "But let's say this is true… your brother was a very perceptive man and he didn't trust anyone." He tapped his bare foot against the tiles of the kitchen floor. "If he found something out about his own captain there would have been a reason to want him dead."

"Matsumoto was carrying a package the night she died," Rukia whispered, "Maybe she was killed to stop the message from being relayed. She could have found something that one of her girls picked up from the crime scene before we got there. It could have been something Aizen wanted to hide."

"Do you know what you're brother was working on before he died?" Ichigo asked.

"The death of a museum owner." She answered automatically.

Their eyes rose and met each other's slowly. Fear and disbelief were etched in each iris.

"Shit." Ichigo breathed, he ran another hand through his hair, making it stick up even further. "You said you sent those samples to Orihime today?"

"Yes." She answered, her fingers toying with the tag on her teabag.

"I'll see if she can get that done faster." He raised his head and looked around for a clock, his eyes fell on one immediately but annoyingly told him that it was already past eleven at night. Once again, his hand went through his hair. "We'll go see her in the morning."

Rukia nodded and reached for his teacup. She took them to the sink and set them inside. Ichigo was beside her as soon as she was turned around. She was still shaking badly and he knew that she was nervous, afraid, and downright exhausted from the physical and emotional trials of the day.

Slowly, he took her hands in his and led her back to her bed. He pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the mouth before whispering to her to put some pajama's on. She did and he followed suit, slipping out of his jeans and pulling on his boxer shorts. Once she was dressed in a silken shirt and a small pair of underwear she set her alarm clock and slid into bed. Ichigo was directly beside her and as soon as she was in between the gossamer sheets he pulled her to him. She was situated now, her front to his front, her head tucked neatly under his chin, their bodies as close as could be and the sheets drawn up to their shoulders.

Rukia was on the verge of a deep slumber when she sighed softly and whispered, "I love it when you hold me like this." Her arms wrapped around his waist and she breathed contentedly.

Ichigo, who had nearly dozed off himself, was roused by her softly spoken—but completely audible—words. He held her a bit tighter and murmured, "Why?" Desperately hoping that she would hear and answer him.

She snuggled her face closer to his naked chest, the silk of her night shirt rubbing against him comfortably. "Because when… when you hold me… like this, all the evil in the world… doesn't exist…"

With that Rukia Kuchiki fell silent, her breathing was even and her eyes were closed softly, there was no trace of unrest or of trouble. Only peace.

Ichigo wondered, as she dozed into a restful slumber, if—subconsciously—she could hear how quickly his heart was beating.

-!!-

Rukia opened the door to the medical examiner's office and Ichigo followed close behind. Rukia's throat was tight and her heart was fluttering harder than she had expected. Half of her wanted her to reach her hand back and grip Ichigo's but the other half of her told not to act like a needy, whiny, weak _girl_.

When they first caught sight of Orihime they saw that she was bending over another corpse, but when the two of them entered her eyes widened and she placed all of her tools to the side, completely disregarding the armless man on the table. In a moment her mask was off and she was rushing over to the both of them.

"Rukia!" She gasped, her eyes widening. Her hands shot forward and she gripped the detective's hands tightly. Rukia took a minute to marvel at the strength of Orihime's hands but realized that the woman dealt with corpses all day long and probably had to move heavy limbs every couple of minutes.

Ichigo came to Rukia's side and laid a hand on her shoulder. Unbeknownst to him, Rukia let out a small sigh and felt a tiny wave of relief wash over her.

"Rukia!" Orihime's eyes were worried and her lips were pursed into a tight line. "Where did you get… _those things_?" She ended on a whisper; she gripped the detective's fingers harder and asked again, "_Where_?"

"Orihime," Rukia answered, her voice was low but clear as she swallowed once and drew in a deep breath. She closed her eyes, "Just tell me if they match."

Ichigo's hand was on her shoulder and she could feel his fingers tensing around her.

Rukia opened her eyes and watched as Orihime nodded softly. There was unspeakable pain in the examiner's eyes as she said quietly, "The cocaine was a match to the samples taken from Nanao's crime scene and the rust from the blade was the same type that was in your brother's body."

Silence dictated the room for a minute as Rukia stared at Orihime, Orihime stared back, and Ichigo stood beside them, his hand on his lover's shoulder.

It was only after a moment that Rukia sensed her throat constricting slowly, her mind was beginning to fuzz over, and her body felt like it was growing lighter by the second.

Suddenly, she was spun around and Ichigo was pressing her tightly into his chest. "Come on Rukia," he murmured, "Come on… you gotta stay with me for a while longer. Just a while longer."

The blackness that had been so strong around her eyes began to ebb away. Rukia drew in a deep breath of Ichigo's wonderful scent as she felt the muscles and tendons in her legs begin to work once again. She kept on breathing him in, needing his aroma to give her the strength she desired so urgently.

She could hear Orihime calling her name as Ichigo picked her up and carried her to the nearest chair he could find. Rukia didn't like the idea of being picked up by Ichigo while there might be others around to see, she didn't like the fact that she appeared weak, but she also didn't like the fact that her former boss murdered her brother and her coworker. So in the end it all balanced out.

A brown paper bag was shoved into her hands, Ichigo's fingers took her hand in his and he brought the bag to her mouth, she began to breathe gently. Ichigo's hand then went to her cheek as the bag puffed out and constricted repeatedly. His thumb caressed the tip of her cheekbone and she flicked her eyes towards him. Concern was written over his features and his eyes spelled nothing short of anxiety. Rukia's already oxygen deprived heart began to thump even more.

Angrily, she shook her head. _This isn't the time for this!_ She snarled mentally.

"Rukia?" Fear was laced in Orihime's voice as she hovered above the two of them.

"She'll be alright, Orihime," Ichigo said calmly, his voice belying the frowns on his face.

"Are you sure?" She asked nervously, clutching the folds of her scrubs and swallowing uneasily. "She almost passed out a minute ago!"

"It's okay Orihime," Rukia murmured softly, her mouth moving away from the brown bag. "I'm fine."

Ichigo shot her a hard look and pushed her hand—the one holding the bag—back towards her face. "Breathe." He commanded.

Rukia glared at him, "I'm okay."

"I know you are," he answered shortly, "I just want to make _sure_ that you're okay."

She paused for a minute and shook her head, placing the paper bag closer to her mouth and drawing in a few more deep breaths. Ichigo watched her diligently as she did so; both seemed to have forgotten the presence of the anxious medical examiner.

Only after three more breaths she removed the bag and crushed it in her fists, not really caring if he wanted her to continue using it.

Gracelessly, she pressed her elbows into the tops of her knees and drew her head into her hands. "They match." She said simply.

Ichigo nodded gravely. "It was right under our noses the entire time."

Her eyes were wrought with pain and irritation as she snorted, "That's cliché."

"But adequate."

Rukia felt something brush her shoulder and she glanced up once again. It was Orihime… still standing and hovering above them. Rukia sighed softly and looked down once again. She knew that Orihime wanted to know what was going on. She wanted to know where Rukia had gotten the samples that matched some of the most gruesome crime scenes she had ever examined.

The female detective ran her hand through her hair. "Orihime…" she began.

"Yes?" The answer was too eager.

"We can't tell you what's going on." She said bluntly, raising her head and staring directly into the red-head's eyes. She watched as Orihime's face fell and her gaze became completely crestfallen.

"Why?" She murmured in a soft voice.

Ichigo remained silent as Rukia continued, "If this goes to court we might get involved in a rather bloody legal battle, I don't want you to… well, to feel the need to perjure yourself… if it comes to that."

Her eyes widened and she gasped, her bottom lip trembling, "Are you sure?"

Rukia nodded softly and then shook her head in disappointment. "I'm sorry, Inoue."

There was a pregnant pause before Orihime let out a high, fake, laugh. "It's okay," she giggled unconvincingly. "I-I wouldn't want to get sent to jail anyway!"

Rukia sighed, her face softening a bit, "Thank you for understanding." She stood up and turned towards the exit. "This will all be finished soon."

She walked swiftly towards the door and Ichigo followed suit, nodding at Orihime and thanking her one last time before following Rukia up the stairs and out into the main precinct room.

Ichigo swallowed and moved towards her shoulder, "Let's talk outside." He said quietly.

She nodded and led the way. The wind was cold and brittle and Rukia zipped up the thin jacket she had covering her. Ichigo scrutinized her as she marched towards their unmarked car: her cheeks were pink—but whether that was from lack of air or simply the cold he didn't know—and her hair was waving around her face in tendrils. She would have looked beautiful if not for her heavy eyes and pinched brows.

After a moment Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "We'll make it work."

"We can't make it work," she spat out disgustedly, "I seized those items illegally, I broke the fourth amendment! He doesn't even know I was in his _house_!" She turned towards him and drew in a shuddering breath. "We _can't_ make this work!"

He began to pace on the pavement, "Then we'll make another search! What about a stolen credit card or something? That gives ground for a search of an entire house; we can find something like that!"

"It won't make any difference!" She cried, swinging her arms emphatically. "He's got a solid record, nothing stolen, no parking tickets, no tax evasions… he's clean! There's nothing we can get him on!"

"Then we'll find a way to make him confess!" Ichigo told her, shaking her slightly.

Rukia's jaw dropped and her eyes widened, "Are you insane?" She screamed, jerking her shoulders angrily. "There's no fucking way he'd even _think_ about doing that!"

"Then we need to think of another way to get him." Ichigo snapped, "You can't just give up on this, the guy killed you _brother_ for gods sake!"

"Don't you think I fucking _know that_?" She screamed, whirling around to face him. Her eyes were wild and her hair was whipping in the cold February wind. She brushed them away and shook her head, "Damn it Ichigo, if I knew how to get him I would be there in less than a second with a warrant and an injection needle."

She turned away from him and pressed her hand to her heated forehead, her other to her hip; her body was now facing the wind. Her throat was swallowing convulsively and her shoulders kept tightening and then releasing sporadically.

Ichigo didn't know what to do. He simply stood there, watching her as her emotions roiled with fear, anger, hatred, and despair. His throat was tight and his brow furrowed as he simply stared at her.

_How do you tell someone that their brother's killer might never be brought to justice?_ He thought hopelessly.

Silence encroached in the space between them.

"I'm not going to forget this."

Ichigo lifted his head and looked at her. She was turned towards him now, her body rigid and her face hard.

He blinked once and frowned again, "I know you're not."

"Byakuya's not going to be forgotten."

"I know."

"I will hound Aizen until he get's as much as a parking ticket."

"We." Ichigo said automatically.

Rukia's eyes found his. "What?"

He took a step forward. And then another. He didn't stop until he was directly in front of her. He placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, his fingers curling into her hair as she stared at him directly.

"I said," he began, "'We.' There is no way in hell that you are doing this by yourself. We're partners, remember? And there is no fucking way that someone else will ever be with me. Got it?"

Rukia swallowed and looked into Ichigo's intense eyes. He was staring down at her as if challenging her to dare to refute what he had just said.

Half of her wanted to snip at him, asking him what would happen if she died, would he still partner up with her corpse? She wanted to poke him in the ribs and tell him to stop being an idiot and just walk away like nothing had happened. But… but… she just couldn't. Not with him looking at her like she was the most precious thing to him on this earth. He was looking at her like he alone was her protector and her guardian. He was looking like… looking like…

Like he loved her with all his heart.

Rukia nodded numbly and whispered, "Got it."

She was just in time too, because the very next thing Ichigo did was sigh in relief and pull her up for a sweetly searing kiss.

It was gentle, the way he moved his mouth against hers this time… it was light and clear and engaging all at once. Rukia's arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her towards him and sighed softly as her lips parted beneath his softly insistent tongue.

He tasted her gingerly; as if he was afraid he would break her if he kissed her too forcefully. But she didn't mind, not so long as she still got to kiss him.

After a few minutes a car passed them on the street and honked its horn twice, a couple of teenagers hooted from the inside and Rukia chuckled lightly into Ichigo's mouth. _Well we are making something of a scene_.

He didn't seem to care though; he simply kept kissing her. Once he had made a very thorough exploration of her mouth his lips moved to place butterfly kisses over her lips and her cheeks. She returned then with equal gentleness and finally, after what seemed like pleasurable hours, they pulled away from each other, Ichigo's hands massaging her tense back while her fingers toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck.

As she stood there, rocking gently in his arms Rukia marveled at the way he still kissed her. Every time he placed his lips on hers—whether it be gentle and soft or hard and voracious—was like a completely new experience. A while back Rukia had wondered if he would ever grow bored simply kissing her—truth be told she still wondered—but from the ways he kissed her now she knew that he enjoyed kissing her as much as she enjoyed having him kiss her.

And honestly… she wanted him to kiss her like this for the rest of her life.

Ichigo slowly removed his hands from her back and sighed. Rukia almost whimpered at the loss of him against her but she knew better than to be too vocal about how much she wanted him.

"Come on," he whispered, staring down at her, "Let's find something to nail Aizen." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved away from her. They walked back into the precinct quietly and sat down at their desk quickly. Rukia soon booted her computer and began to pull up any file she had accrued from researching Aizen's history. Ichigo sat behind her, his breath tickling her neck as she typed and clicked.

As she was scrolling through the files Rukia noticed something else: Ichigo's presence behind her made her feel at ease, even though she was currently going through the files of the man who had killed four people.

Sighing at the absurdity of it all, Rukia went back to work.

-!!-

Rukia walked into her apartment and sighed softly. Rubbing the back of her neck with a groan, she trod inside and tossed her keys and weaponry belt to the side. The keys jingled to the wooden surface and her belt clacked down solidly. She sighed again and wearily rubbed both of her palms over her face. Christ, what time was it anyway? She looked up at her clock on the wall and blinked, it was nearly ten o'clock.

"Jesus," she muttered, "Fourteen hours glued to a computer screen and for what?" She half-heartedly kicked the foot of the end table by her couch and listened to her lamp wobble slightly on the rocking wood.

Damn this. Damn all of this. She could have worked a bit more. She really could have. She would still even be at the precinct if Ichigo hadn't forcibly removed her from her chair and tossed her into the car, telling her that she needed sleep in order to continue the entire investigation.

She had griped at him on the way back but he hadn't listened to a word. Instead he turned the radio on and paid attention to the alternative rock music drifting through his speakers. He had parked the car and walked her to her door, giving her a swift kiss before telling her that he needed to run over to his apartment for a moment. When questioned he simply shrugged and said that if he was going to be spending so many nights over at her house then he might as well have a change of clothes for the morning. Rukia silently agreed, although she didn't tell him this; she was getting slightly tired of people giving her strange looks when she—or he—came into work wearing the same clothes they had had on yesterday.

She had made a mental note to remember to bring a few pieces of clothing over to his apartment.

Rukia felt the wall with her fingers and flipped on the light. She couldn't wait until Ichigo got back, maybe then she could coerce him into cooking for her. Who cared it if was ten at night? She was hungry now and she wanted—

A rough hand clothed in black wrapped around Rukia's waist and forcefully tugged her backwards.

Rukia gasped and her legs swung out frantically.

The blow landed on her lamp.

It crashed to the floor.

Shards cut her foot.

Another hand grappled to put something over her mouth.

Rukia drew in a breath to scream but instead of air a sweetly fragrant substance entered her lungs.

Her movements stilled and the world grew black around her.


	18. Countdown

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Wow, the reviews I got from the last chapter were… interesting. :D I hope everyone likes this chapter. I adored writing it.**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW!!)**

**Chapter 17**

Ichigo killed the engine and quickly exited the car, his heart pulsating inside of his chest. Nimble fingers reached into the back of the vehicle and pulled out a small gym bag filled with a few pairs of jeans and a couple of tight tee shirts. Ichigo grinned when he thought of how much Rukia liked it when he wore shirts that accented the muscles in his stomach. He would always notice how she stared at his chest and abdomen while he wore them just around the house. Hell, he couldn't get away with wearing a beater for a couple of seconds before she took it off of him and began running those small hands of hers over his stomach.

But upcoming sexual experiences weren't the only thing that Ichigo had on his mind. Swallowing heavily he drew in a breath and began bolting up the stairs.

He wondered how she'd react when she heard what he was going to say with her… Would her face reflect surprise? Doubt? Anger? Fear?

Or maybe happiness? Ichigo shrugged as he wheeled around the third floor landing and kept dashing up the steps. Christ, he had been working with her for almost a year now; he knew how she reacted to good—was it good?—news… stoic face with slightly expressive eyes. He knew that the fluttering in her heart would grow and there might be a tiny twitch or two from her small finger. But that would be it. That was always it.

He slowed his pace on the fifth floor steps, not wanting to appear before her panting and out of breath—even though he would be panting and out of breath anyway in a few minutes.

His last few steps allowed him to think and also allowed a small smile to play on the edges of his mouth. Yeah, tonight was the night that he was going to… well, if he got up enough balls anyway.

Ichigo snorted as he turned; balls he had, it was tact that left something to be desired.

"Rukia!" He called, marching towards her door with vivacious footsteps, "Rukia, I'm back—"

Ichigo stared at the door, immediately his eyes widened and trickles of fear began to slip down his spine.

He inched forward just a bit, his hand going to the holster of the gun he kept on his hip. "Rukia?" He said, his voice echoing around the empty space of the apartment complex.

He took a few more steps forward and swept his eyes across the ground. There were dark splotches of liquid littering the tiles underneath his feet. His nostrils flared in the darkness and his throat tightened when he bent on one knee and dipped his finger into a spot. He pulled up the digit quickly and felt the trickle of fear on his neck become a full-blown wave as he saw red.

"Rukia?" He said, his voice even more strangled this time.

He rose from is knee and pulled his gun out completely. He kept it pinned near Rukia's door as he stepped forward. He braced himself as he shoved the toe of his shoe against the base of the door. It opened soundlessly before him. Ichigo's eyes immediately went to the shattered vase on the floor, the keys, gun, and phone on the side table, and on the steady drops of blood littering the floor beneath his feet.

His heart was beating faster than he had ever known in his life.

"Rukia!" He shouted, dropping one of his hands from his gun and rushing into the apartment. "Rukia!" He thundered through the living room. No one. He called her name again as he went through to the kitchen. She wasn't there. "RUKIA!" He screamed, shoving the door to her bedroom open, then her bathroom, she wasn't anywhere in the room.

He screamed her name once again, loud enough to earn a thump on the wall from Rukia's semi-deaf neighbors.

Ichigo felt his head growing light and his blood pounding through his veins as he dug into his pocket and flipped open his cell phone, forgoing the natural police radio he should have used. But not now, not when he needed everyone available…

His thumb jabbed speed-dial number nine, the number he was only supposed to use if a meteor decided to hit the three one.

Ichigo didn't even allow the man to get a word out before saying, "Ten four Kenpachi, Rukia's been kidnapped and she's injured."

There was a millisecond pause, "Call everyone, Abarai, Ikkaku, one police plaza… everyone. No one sleeps until she's in."

Ichigo's breathing wouldn't settle and his heart was burning between his lungs. "Alright."

"And Ichigo?" Kenpachi's gravelly voice scratched through to his ear.

Ichigo could have screamed at his boss for delaying him even one second more. "What?"

"You've got some explaining to do."

-!!-

Rukia's mind was fuzzy. She didn't know where the hell she was. She didn't know why her eyes felt so heavy or why her senses felt so bogged down. All she knew was that she was alive and that she was, in fact, breathing.

Now she could feel her arms… her limbs… she was being supported by something tight, something that was making her wrists and ankles hurt. Was she being dragged across the floor? She was almost positive that she could feel her feet running against a harsh, wooden floor.

Her throat tingled as she let a small gasp of air escape, a tiny moan and that was all it was.

Something around her waist tightened and constricted Rukia's ribs. She grunted at the sensation, reality slowly beginning to reform around her. Someone above her snickered and kept walking. She wanted to tell them to stop, to put her down, to give her something to drink, to do anything to relieve this terrible pressure in her head and wash away the fear in her stomach and heart. Only she couldn't form words; grunts and moans yes, but actual words, no.

Where was Ichigo? Why wasn't he here? Was he coming for her? Wait… if this wasn't Ichigo… who the hell was holding her? Where was she? Why was she being carried like a useless sack? What the hell was going on?

The footsteps of the person carrying her stopped; she heard another snickering above her and then the scraping of four chair legs against unpolished and disintegrating floorboards. Her body was slammed into the rotted seat and her head snapped against the back of the chair. She groaned fitfully as her captor began to walk away. Rukia's weak body almost slipped from the chair, her muscles would not respond to any message being sent out by her brain and her arms felt as if they were experiencing atrophy.

The man was back. "Sorry little girl, no duct tape, you'll have to just deal with good, old-fashioned, ropes." The voice was slick and evil; it seemed covered in ooze yet still sickly sweet. Rukia would have known that voice anywhere.

Rukia felt them being wrapped around her body, tightened, and then wrapped around again. Next were her legs and ankles. He was tightening the knots when her neck muscles lost their slight rigidity and her head fell forward, raven hair falling into her drowsy eyes.

The man finished and then stepped back, Rukia tried to open her eyes but found it difficult to do even that.

"Nice jacket," the voice muttered, "Too bad you left a piece of it on my windowsill."

For the first time since the death of her brother, Rukia Kuchiki felt like crying.

-!!-

Ichigo stood in the front of the entirety of the three one, its contents were packed with bleary-eyed detectives, scowling computer techs, and handfuls of street cops. He was pacing back and forth, rubbing his five o'clock shadow voraciously.

The room was silent except for a few muffled coughs, slurps of coffee, and murderous mutters.

Renji was the first to comment, "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Ichigo turned to him first, "Look, Abarai, I know that it sounds hard to believe, but right now we need to focus on—"

Renji stood up, effectively cutting Ichigo off. His forehead was pushing a vein through his skin and his tattoo's seemed to glow unnaturally. "I'm not going to go on some wild goose chase that could incriminate my superior officer!"

Ichigo's expression flared murderously and he stepped forward aggressively, "And what about Rukia, huh? What about her? You don't give a shit that she's missing?" He shouted.

"Sure, I'll look for Rukia," Renji snarled, "But I think she's more or less left you, considering that you two were fucking sleeping together!"

Ichigo's fist connected with Renji's face within an instant, his cheek crunched underneath Ichigo's curled fingers as he pummeled Renji fiercely. Ichigo then had his knee inside of Renji's abdomen before he could even draw a breath to prepare himself for the second attack. A moment later Kenpachi's arms were curled around Ichigo's biceps, restraining his detective from killing Renji.

"Cool it Ichigo!" Kenpachi growled, his body jerking as Ichigo tried to lunge towards Renji again.

"Let me go!" The detective snapped, still struggling to get out of his captain's grip.

Hinamori was beside her partner, her hand soothing a path over his bruised cheek and slightly askew nose. He was bent over double on the floor, gasping and wheezing while his partner soothed him gently.

Ichigo's eyes lit upon the pair, Hinamori tending to an injured Renji made his heart immediately constrict. He felt like ropes were being tied over his entire body, squeezing him until he couldn't breathe.

He had to find her. He _needed_ to find her.

Renji's face turned towards Ichigo's and he snarled maliciously. "What? Can't stand to think that she might have _left_ you?"

Ichigo's eyes saw red and Kenpachi tightened his grip.

However, instead of Ichigo answering, Orihime, who was standing near the back with her spine pressed to Ishida's chest, chose to respond. "Think about it Renji, the broken lamp, the blood on the floor! Honestly Renji, don't be so stupid!"

Renji turned to her, "I'm not about to believe that my captain smuggles weapons, associates with coke dealers, and has murdered four of his subordinates!" Her roared.

The entire room erupted into heated debate, shouting, and calls for order. Renji and a few other detectives from the two eight were squared off at one edge of the room while other officers from the three one were on the other side, yelling just as fitfully.

Ichigo's head was swimming with all of the noises going on around him. His senses seemed to be on complete overload. The only thing he was running on right now was a small cup of coffee and a heaping load of fear. He was afraid for Rukia and where she might be. He was afraid for her limp body and stilled heart that might be dumped into a ravine somewhere unknown. He was afraid because she had been gone for well over an hour and he still had no idea where she was. He was afraid because Orihime had run a quick DNA scan of the blood on the floor and Rukia's blood, they now knew that they were the exact same. He was afraid of where she might be cut and if she was bleeding to death in some place where he would never find her.

His breathing began to grow erratic as he loosened his muscles in Kenpachi's grip and began to shake. Kenpachi let go of him softly, which must have been an impressive feat for such a large man, but he actually was able to do it. Ichigo staggered over to a small stool and sat on it, digging his fingers into his hair fruitlessly.

The room was louder than it had been three minutes ago. Ichigo swallowed and raised his head, completely ready to shut these people up and make them start looking for Rukia.

Only he didn't get the chance; in the next moment Kenpachi took a step forward, curled his meaty fingers into a fist, brought that hand up into a curving arch, and then slammed it down on the next available desk. The wood rattled and cracked and immediately the room was completely silent, every eye was trained on the massive man with the eye patch.

Kenpachi took two steps forward, his feet thundering on the wooden planks of the floor. The gazes in the room were riveted to him.

"We are here tonight," Kenpachi began in a low and deadly voice, "Not to squabble about 'ifs' and 'ors' but in order to find one of our best detectives, who, as we are entitled to believe, has been kidnapped by a person of _ill intent_."

Detectives from the two eight scowled but didn't say a word.

"From the resources that we have now, which might not be all correct, we will start investigating possible places that Rukia Kuchiki could be… we will begin by looking into places that Sosuke Aizen has been in the past year."

There were more snarls from the two eight side but Ichigo had never looked at his boss with more respect.

"Are. There. Any. Questions?"

Silence.

Kenpachi nodded to the room and then turned to Ichigo. "Tell us what to do detective."

Ichigo swallowed hard and rose, squaring his shoulder he breathed in deeply and dove directly into the melee. "You! I want a comprehensive search of any places he might have gone in the past three months. You! Six months. You! Known contacts, possible confidential informants, anyone worth mentioning in his history. You! Look for any places our victims had that he might be using for a hideout. Check the phone records, check postal records, emails, everything! We need to find her and we need to find her _now_!"

-!!-

Rukia's eyes were closed on purpose.

Her body was shaking slightly and her senses were considerably sharper than they had been ten minutes ago. She could hear heavy breathing on the other side of the room and felt the definite presence of another human.

She couldn't tell if the area was lit or not, she couldn't smell anything besides the lingering odor of chloroform, and her limbs still moved sluggishly underneath her—she wasn't even sure she could move them. The ropes were just so _tight_.

She needed to think of a way out of here. She needed to get away from here, away from him, and most definitely get away from everything he was going to do to her.

Images of her dead brother flashed before her mind, then Matsumoto, then Yumichika, and then Nanao… was she going to be the last? Starting with a Kuchiki… ending with a Kuchiki… it made perfect sense.

Her eyes burned as she fought to keep them shut.

Where was Ichigo?

"I know you're awake."

Rukia's throat tightened immediately. She thought about faking a small moan to make him think that she really was still unconscious. She drew in a shuddering breath and shook her head slowly. It would be no use.

"I was wondering how long you were going to fake it." The voice said conversationally. Another chair scraped as she raised her head and slowly opened her eyes.

"Captain," she croaked in greeting.

Aizen smiled charmingly and cocked his head to the side. He took a few steps forward, his hands slipped into his pockets, and said, "Hello detective."

Rukia's heart was filled with fear as she stared at him. He looked different than he usually did… his hair was slicked back and his eyes were released from their usual thick glasses.

Rukia cleared her throat, her voice still a bit shaky from the chloroform. "You look… different."

Aizen grinned slickly and brought his hand up so he could run it through his jelled locks. "You like it? I think it gives me more of a villainous look."

Rukia couldn't believe her voice was holding up as well as it was. She had been drugged, was currently in tied to a chair, in a dank and crummy building, and was now conversing with a murderer. She didn't know how long she could even maintain an aura of confidence or even decorum.

But more than that… how could he be so calm? He was acting as if she had just come into his office and was asking about the weather.

Aizen took another step forward and Rukia's head inclined backwards. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

His grin turned into a smirk and he cocked an eyebrow up, "You're afraid."

"You've killed four people." Rukia's answer came out as a whisper.

Aizen took another step, she tried to lean back but nothing she did could stop his advance. He was soon only an inch away from her face, his smile was deadly and slick, "Four people… that you know of." he said smugly.

Rukia felt her entire insides turn to ice.

-!!-

"Kurosaki!" Hanataro called, his body hunched over a computer, "I have something for you!"

Ichigo was next to him in a second. "What is it?" He asked, his wild eyes scanning the computer screen and then the tired looking man beside him.

Hanataro pointed to the monitor, it displayed a map of—what seemed to be—the area near the docks. The lake expanded to one side and the rest of it was an interconnecting weave of roads, buildings, and street corners. The cursor was resting on a thumping red dot somewhere in the middle. Ichigo's exhausted eyes shifted over the entire thing, then fixed on that particular spot.

"What is it?" He asked again, this time with more urgency. Time was ticking away and they still didn't have a clue where Rukia was.

"These are all places on the docks where we've reported frequent drug activity, mostly dealings in cocaine, marijuana, and ecstasy, stuff like that." Hanataro began tensely, "These are also the areas where our friend, Gin Ichimaru, said that Tosen likes to hang out."

"So?"

Hanataro gulped at the resonance of Ichigo's hard voice. The man sounded ready to kill someone.

"This building, right here," he tapped the blinking red dot, "Is owned by Sosuke Aizen."

Ichigo tensed beside Hanataro and nodded, "Alright, I'm going." He moved away from the tiny man on the computer and reached over to his desk. He pulled his jacket on and shouted into the air, "I'm going to the docks, and I'll have my cell phone on at all times, if another lead comes up contact me immediately."

Renji frowned, "The docks are over an hour away." He called.

"So? I'll be there in forty minutes." Ichigo grabbed his keys and shot towards the door. Renji was hot on his heels, his face set in a frown and a jacket clutched in his grasp.

"I'm coming with you," he told Ichigo as they slammed their way through the doors.

"I don't care, just take your own car, if Rukia's there we might have company, and if she's hurt…" Ichigo just swallowed and rushed to his car.

Renji moved to the one beside him and glared at Ichigo, "Don't think like that. It won't do any good."

Ichigo glared at him over the top of the two cars and growled, "Just try and keep up."

-!!-

Rukia body was shaking completely as Aizen continued to walk around the room, his fingers ticking off as he counted name after name. She couldn't help it, he had already counted over thirty names; Byakuya, Matsumoto, Yumichika, and Nanao had simply been the icing on the cake. They were the top ones. He had killed everyone from lowly drug deals to pimps on the street and even hookers. Each one had been victims at the hands of Sosuke Aizen.

"… And I can't forget Cookie Azakati," Aizen murmured thoughtfully. "She was my most recent, _victim_; I guess that's what _you_ would call her." He smiled back at Rukia and shrugged, "Well… I'm not sure you'd be able to actually call her a victim. I _was_ saving her from a life on the streets, from whoring herself, and from wasting the only thing that makes her—or woman for that matter—useful."

Rukia's lips trembled as she tried to speak, "You're disgusting."

"Am I, Rukia?" He asked her, a bit of laughter in his voice, "Am I really?"

She nodded her head.

Aizen's smile broadened, "I'm so glad you're actually speaking. Most of my other victims just screamed, cried, or begged. I might actually have a decent conversation before I kill you."

Rukia blinked her eyes rapidly, "So you are going to kill me." It was a statement, not a question.

Aizen spread his arms in a genial motion; his sick grin never left his face, "Why of course! Killing a Kuchiki is a very rare thing."

Rukia's chin trembled.

"Your brother was amazing to kill," he sighed and smiled again, softer this time, he reached over to the edge of the dimly lit room and brought out another chair. He pulled it towards her until his face was only a few inches away. He straddled the chair backwards and rested his arms across the top. Rukia turned her head completely away but felt his pointer finger run along the side of her neck. She had to fight to suppress the shiver that ran through her body. His finger ran up the entire length of her neck and then pressed her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. He yanked her ear painfully down and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" he smirked, his mouth only a breath away from hers, "You're going to have to look at me when I talk to you."

Rukia wanted so badly to pull away, to butt him in the head, to do something that would keep him away from her. But she didn't… the only thing she did was swallow loudly and say, "So t-talk."

Aizen smirked softly and toyed a bit with the ends of her hair. She felt revolted to have him touch her like this.

Only Ichigo should ever touch her like this.

"Your brother called me that night, he asked me to meet him in the slums because of a homicide. He wanted a consult. He needed to see me _immediately_." He blew lightly on her neck and she whimpered, her eyes were still staring into his, she couldn't pull away.

"When I met him there he confronted me with pictures he had taken showing me and a certain _associate_, perhaps you know him… Tosen? Yes, you probably do. He's a close friend and an excellent poker player. Don't know how he does it though, being blind and all… anyway, not the point. He told me that he knew everything. About me buying and dealing coke, about the black market antiques, and especially about the missing hookers I spent time with." He smiled warmly and his eyes took on a glassy, reminiscent look, "The hookers were the first… my dear Rukia, killing is just so fun and _easy _too. I never thought it would be that easy. I swear, after only one shot I was hooked. It was amazing. It was just…" he pumped his open hand up and down in order to emphasize his point, "The adrenaline was fantastic. I just knew I would want to feel like that again… and often."

At this Aizen pulled his head back and laughed. "But I honestly never thought anyone would figure it out! I mean, I thought it was the perfect crime… ah, but I guess that no one ever pulls off the perfect crime. Do they?"

There was silence in the room. Everything was quiet except for the harsh breathing of the captive and the chilling warmth of the captor. Aizen was smiling expectantly at Rukia, his façade of kindness never leaving his horrific face. His eyes narrowed and he gripped a handful of hair, he yanked her head back until she was staring at the top of a rotted ceiling. She gulped soundlessly as she felt a cold and sharp piece of metal press against the exposed vein of her throat.

Aizen's mouth was next to her ear, his lips tickled her skin as he whispered, "Do they?"

She didn't dare shake her head but her body continued to shake against her will. Her breathing was quick as she whispered, "N-no."

"Good," he grinned. He sighed and ran a small knife across the top of her throat. He paused for a few moments, Rukia could feel his hot breath on her neck. "Well… my, my, my… the Great Rukia Kuchiki is shaking… trembling actually."

"S-so?" She whispered, he pricked the knife against her skin and she winced as it broke the skin and a warm trail of blood slid down her neck. "If you're going to kill me t-then just g-get it over w-with."

Nothing in the room moved, Aizen's knife stopped its lazy trail along her neck, the breeze outside stopped shifting, and the windows of the rotted building ceased rattling.

"Oh sweetie," Sosuke Aizen said with a small smile, "You're not going to die…"

Rukia's bottom lip trembled and she closed her eyes, willing herself to be stronger, to accept what he had said and was going to say. She knew… she just knew… that this wasn't over.

"You're going to burn."

A tear slid past Rukia's closed eyes and down her cheek.

-!!-

Ichigo's cell phone buzzed and he picked it up immediately. "Yeah?" He answered, his voice tense and his tone dangerous.

"Ichigo, it's Kenpachi," he boss said, Ichigo could hear the movements of the precinct in the back round, there were shouts, calls, clicks, and swears echoing everywhere. Ichigo's mind felt a little less troubled knowing that so many people were still working back at the base. "How far away are you?"

"Fifteen minutes." Short and to the point.

"Is Abarai following you?"

"Yes."

"How far over the speed limit are you going?"

"Sixty miles an hour."

"If you get into an accident and die…"

"That's not going to happen." Ichigo sniped. "Did you have something to tell me?"

"Just an update. There aren't any other leads. This is the best one we've got." Kenpachi paused, "Ichigo… be careful. Don't you dare fly off the handle if he's there."

"I know."

"I'm sending an EMS truck to the area; they should be there in about thirty minutes." Kenpachi sighed.

Ichigo scowled into the phone, "I'm almost there. Goodbye."

"Good luck."

-!!-

"But your brother was a crafty one!" Aizen exclaimed brightly as he got up from his chair and whisked away towards the edges of the room. "He told me, after I stabbed him with the knife a couple of times, you'll never believe this, he said, 'This isn't over.' Like he was some sort of hero from a crime drama or something. My goodness. But see, I didn't really know what to make of that before I figured it out." He sighed and turned to her. "Did you know that he actually knew more about computer than some of our most experienced computer analysts?"

Rukia wheezed softly, "N-no."

He pouted lightly and reached behind him. Rukia watched as he pulled out a bright red canister and began unscrewing the lid. "My my my, you should have known him better little girl. He was, after all, your very own brother." He threw the lid to the side and began to pour a pungent liquid all over the floor. Rukia drew in a small breath and instantly began coughing; she smell was sharp and disgusting but she still knew what it was.

"Did you know what he actually put all of those photos onto a tiny little microchip—" Aizen squeezed his fingers together to show how small the object was, "And hid that little chip on the back of your badge?"

Rukia's throat was convulsing at the terrible smells around her. Her lungs were burning with an attempt to breathe properly as well as restrain waterfalls of tears from falling down her face. Both efforts were futile, she was gasping and her face was wet with tears.

"When you and Mr. Kurosaki came to visit the docks that day I thought for sure that my thug would be able to take you out and then get your badge… but alas, that idiotic, orange-haired, freak managed to save you from being strangled. How typical." He walked towards her again, both of his hands were in his pockets and he was grinning from ear to ear. "I bet you've thanked him for that _a lot_ since you two have started fucking."

He took his hands from his pockets and placed them on either side of the chair arms, leaning his face so close to her that she could feel his nose brush against hers.

He took a lock of her hair and began to twirl it again, "Tell me Rukia… where is that boy now? Is he back at your apartment? Is he looking for you? He'll never find you. Never ever."

Rukia's throat released a sob and she tried to avert her eyes from his.

"Too bad little girl, I can tell too… he loves you so much… and you love him too. I can see it in the way you're crying _right now_."

"Stop." She whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"But you'll never get to tell him anything. You were too much of an icy bitch before to even consider the fact that you loved him. No… you wanted distance, I'll bet, and all he wanted to do was wake up next to you every… single… day."

"Please." She couldn't take this anymore.

"How do you think he'll feel when he sees your charred bones in all the rubble of this place?" He cocked his head to the side and smirked. "I think he'll put his gun in his mouth and pull the trigger."

"No!" She shrieked, throwing her head desperately from side to side, anything to stop the hateful words that were coming from his mouth. "Stop it! Stop it! Please just stop it!"

"Ichigo dead because of you, little girl!" Aizen shouted above her screams. "You wouldn't let go of this case and he just had to solve it with you because he was so in love with you. Now you and Ichigo will both die because of your own stupidity."

"No…" Rukia sobbed, rivers of tears falling from her eyes, "No… no… no…"

Aizen smiled, "Yes, yes, yes… little girl."

Abruptly, he let go of the chair and sauntered to the edge of the room. Rukia couldn't hear him. She couldn't see him. The only thing she was aware of was the wrenching, stabbing feeling in her chest, the burning sensation in her eyes, the salty water dripping down her face, and the gasoline creeping up her nostrils.

"You're on the top floor Rukia!" Aizen shouted over her. "This thing goes up five! I'm going down and at the very, very bottom there are some cartons soaked in gasoline. I'm going to light them on fire…"

He burst out laughing for a moment and then dwindled down, his voice still merry as he said, "Don't worry Rukia! You'll die from smoke inhalation far before you die from the actual burns."

Rukia continued to cry as Aizen paused at the door then came back into the room. He smiled down at her and shifted his head to the side, "I'm sorry, I almost forgot."

Humming softly he reached down to her belt and pulled off her badge. Rukia opened her eyes long enough to watch him dig behind the clip and take out a tiny, miniscule, metallic chip. Aizen sighed softly and threw the chip to the room. It simply clattered onto the floor and skipped out of sight.

"No more evidence. No more Kuchiki's." He said happily as he grasped the butt of the knife in his hand and brought it down on her head. "Goodbye Rukia."

Darkness fell upon Rukia once again… but not before her last, singular, thought.

_Ichigo_.

-!!-

Ichigo's car pulled to a screeching halt and he was out of the driver's side in less then a second. Something was slithering up his nostrils and it smelled distinctly like…

"Renji!" Ichigo shouted, "There's smoke coming from a building!"

"I can smell it!" He shouted back, following Ichigo quickly.

Their feet pounded on the wet concrete as they turned corner after corner, searching for a building billowing in smoke. The continued running… just running and running, their sides splitting open and their lungs bursting to capacity… Running for Rukia—they needed to find—

"No!"

The building before them was roaring in flames. Smoke was flowing into the sky and sparks were flying everywhere.

Ichigo and Renji stopped moving. Ice was running through their veins.

"NO!"

Then Ichigo was running, fast and hard towards the burning building he was running. Renji was calling after him but Ichigo couldn't hear him. He could only hear the roaring of the fire and the pounding of his heart. He needed to get up there. He needed to find her. He needed to search the entire goddamn fucking building to find her.

"RUKIA!"

Then _he_ was there. Right in front of Ichigo. He could see him walking slightly in front of the burning building, a smile on his face as he laughed joyously. He couldn't see Ichigo behind him.

The next thing Sosuke Aizen knew he was on the ground, his face in the dirt, his nose smashed into the asphalt, and Ichigo's fist pummeling into his back. He was kicking him and punching him in the shoulders and the sides. His fist was in Aizen's hair long enough to pull his head back and smash it into the ground once more. His other hand was wrapped around his neck, squeezing tightly as the older man suffered on the ground.

"Ichigo!" Renji shrieked. "Ichigo! Don't kill him!"

But Ichigo didn't pay any attention to him. He moved to the side and quickly flipped Aizen over, slamming his head backwards. He was sputtering and coughing up blood. His eyes were closed tight in pain. He looked absolutely pathetic.

"Where is she?" Ichigo screamed as he wrapped his hand around Aizen's throat and tightened. "_Where_?"

"K-k-uro-sa-ki." He coughed, his voice still retaining a malicious hint of malice and glee.

"_Where is she?_"

Renji was beside him now, his arms wrapped around Ichigo's biceps as he attempted to yank him off of his captain. But Ichigo wouldn't let go of Aizen's throat. "Stop it Ichigo!"

"WHERE?" He screamed, his movements becoming wild as Renji jerked him away. But Ichigo wouldn't give into Renji; he kept trying to launch himself onto the prostrate man before him.

Aizen coughed on the ground and rolled to the side, "She… s-she's high n-now… bu-but sh-she'll be h-higher in a m-minute."

Ichigo's muscles went slack as his eyes widened in horror. "She's on the top." He whispered softly.

He was out of Renji's grasp within the next second. He was pushing his legs forward and running towards the burning building. Renji was calling after him. He could hear his name being yelled at full force. Ichigo didn't care. He just didn't care.

He knew that the chances of him coming out of that building alive with Rukia were slim. It was just too hot. The floors were most likely fallen in and the smoke was terrible. He just needed to get in there. He knew it was suicidal. But then again… what was life anyway if he didn't have Rukia?

Ichigo rounded the building and located the wobbling fire escape. He placed his hands on the metallic bars and instantly withdrew them. They were scalding. Gritting his teeth painfully, Ichigo pulled his sleeves over his hands and began to climb. One floor… two… a rung slipped from his foot and he dangled for a minute before gathering the strength to continue.

Ichigo pulled himself to the landing, all the while calling her name, needing to hear some sort of confirmation other than the roaring of flames and the pluming of smoke. He drew in another breath to shout her name but ended up coughing badly. He needed to get to the top and soon.

Two more levels to go. The climb was steady but now the cuffs of his jacket were burned off and his fingers were blistering on the hot metal. Sweat was pooling on the back of his neck and his face was smudged with dirt and smoldering ashes.

Last one. Ichigo threw himself up onto the last landing and he frantically looked around. A charred window was directly to his side and Ichigo didn't waste a moment before he smashed it with his elbow. Smoke started billowing out of the window but Ichigo jumped inside, ripping his jacket and tearing a gash in his arm in the process. He curled his raised arm around his mouth as he walked inside the blistering heat. Flames were licking the unsteady floorboards and everything was black with ash.

His eyes began to water as he looked around, his head jerking from one side to another in search of anything that might tell him—

There! Ichigo lurched forward immediately, his feet cracking and shifting the floorboards as he ran. There was a chair in the very center. In that chair… oh sweet Jesus.

"Rukia!" Ichigo shouted above the roaring flames. He ran to her as fast as he could without falling through the floor himself. He knelt down beside her. His hand reached out and touched the heated skin on her face and he immediately saw that her eyes were closed and blood was trickling down her cheek and neck. His first two fingers went to her neck to feel for a pulse… he could barely feel it.

"Shit." He muttered helplessly. He ran his hands down her arms and then felt a small but thick rope wrapped around both of her wrists and her ankles. He cursed again and felt around into his back pocket for his knife. Whispering to her constantly he snapped open the blade and began to saw through her restraints. She didn't move the entire time he worked on her, she didn't even flinch when his knife penetrated her skin accidentally.

"Come on Rukia," he begged as he unraveled the ropes from her limp body, "Come on… wake up _please_."

Everything was so thick around them. Ichigo could barely see as he hoisted her onto his shoulder and rushed to the window. The frame almost cracked as he dove outside and into the fractionally cooler air. The railing to the fire escape was scalding as he scaled down floor after floor, all the while dodging falling pieces of wood, avoiding collapsed parts of the stairwell, and holding Rukia tight to his chest, willing her eyes to open. The scene was so chaotic that Ichigo barely noticed when his feet hit the solid ground. He deftly situated Rukia so he could grasp her tighter and carry her more securely. Once again, his body began running away from the fire, away from the terror, away from the fear of losing her forever.

Yet, out there, further in the distance—but growing closer as he ran—he could see the flashing lights of multiple police cars, the brilliant hues of two emergency trucks, and the red flickers of fire trucks. There were people outside he recognized. They were running around, yelling forcefully, preparing search parties, and calling for people to make room for the fire trucks.

When they saw him their eyes widened and they started running. In a matter of moments Rukia was out of Ichigo's hands. Her limp body was pulled onto a stretcher as countless people hovered over her body, calling for oxygen, morphine, burn medication, and countless other things that Ichigo could not name.

"Please," he said softly, his voice being drowned out by the screeching fire engines. He tried to go forward but couldn't. There were too many pairs of hands holding him back. They were telling him he was injured and that he needed to rest.

A mask was shoved into his face but Ichigo pushed it aside. He needed to go with Rukia. He needed to make sure that she was alright.

"Please," he croaked again, "Please… I need to—to go—"

Then he was being forced down. People were making him sit while all he wanted to do was run to her and hold her.

Ichigo reached a hand out into the air, desperately trying to catch some part of her as she was strapped into a stretcher, loaded onto the ambulance, and whisked away.

"_Rukia_."


	19. Awake

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Sorry for making everyone wait for this chapter. I had several AP tests this week but just so you know I totally rocked the socks off of my AP Art History exam. But now my teacher wants me to do busy work instead of having a study period to do the rest of my freakishly huge workload. Urg. I can't stand her. For three years she has said my name improperly and doesn't bother to correct herself. But I complain too much.**

**Anyway, ENJOY THIS CHAPTER AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! I love you all!!)**

**Chapter 18**

When Assistant District Attorney Toshiro Hitsugaya came into work on the morning of February 5th the last thing he expected to see on his desk was an indictment against the Captain of the thirty first precinct, Sosuke Aizen, for the kidnapping and attempted murder of Rukia Kuchiki.

He had only to stare at it a couple of moments before scowling fitfully and picking up his phone. He angrily punched in a quick extension number he knew by heart and waited not-so-patiently for his second chair to answer.

"Yoruichi Shihouin speaking Oh-Tiny-One."

Hitsugaya scowled even further, "Call me that again and you're—"

"Fired." Yoruichi sighed, "I know, I know… but you always say that and I've been working with you for well over two years so it doesn't bother me anymore."

"You're incorrigible."

"Did you want something Oh-Tiny-One?"

Hitsugaya had to force a shudder of hatred from rolling down his spine as he spoke, "I wanted to know why I am currently holding an attempted kidnapping and murder indictment against Captain Sosuke Aizen."

"Because he kidnapped and attempted to murder someone." Came the short reply, a sawing sound appeared in the back round, Hitsugaya cringed at the coarse sound of her filing her nails and instantly rubbed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose.

"It says he tried to kidnap and murder _Rukia Kuchiki_." Hitsugaya growled.

"That it does."

"Is it true?"

"Ah, ah, ah Oh-Tiny-One, it doesn't matter if he is guilty, only that you convict him." Yoruichi said in a sing-songy voice. "Come on, my cat knows that much."

"GET IN HERE NOW!" He screamed into the telephone, slamming it down almost hard enough to break the receiver.

There was a giggle from outside his office and a second later Yoruichi Shihouin opened the door to Toshiro's office and popped her head in, "You bellowed Oh-Tiny-One?"

A vein almost popped in Toshiro's forehead as his small body leaned against his large oak desk and he attempted to control his breathing. Damn, all those anger management classes and he _still_ couldn't control his freaking temper. Oh well, Yoruichi wasn't much help either—always raising his blood pressure until he could barely feel his brow. He snarled inwardly and shook his head, it was mostly because he was young, short, and looked like an elementary student with white hair.

Toshiro Hitsugaya, nineteen years old, boy genius, graduate of a prestigious law school in less than two years, promoted to the office of Assistant District Attorney at the age of seventeen, and currently the best prosecutor in the tri-city area. And fucking proud of it. He had crossed years off of his social life by going as far as he had in the world of law and justice.

Respect. That was what he needed—no more diploma's or newspaper articles, just respect. Honestly, he wouldn't have to go to those fucking anger management classes if people gave him some ounce of respect. Yoruichi was actually one of the only ones who did admire him a bit, with the exception a few of the police precincts he worked—and won cases—for. She only teased him because she was just a fun person.

His lean and quirky assistant sauntered up to his desk and sat comfortably in one of the leather chairs he had situated in front of his desk. Her brown skin and slightly purple-tinted hair brought a bit of life to the stagnant room. Yoruichi was wearing a large grin and a slightly tilted face as she wiggled comfortably into the plush seat.

He growled silently as he looked at his attractive ADA next to him, she was sitting in his office, her feet propped on his desk, admiring the expensive engagement band on her finger. He narrowed his eyes at her and tried to suppress a rising quell of jealousy.

He wished he had something slightly resembling a social life.

Toshiro shook his head to clear it, now was not the time to be thinking of such things.

"Yoruichi," he began, his voice official and tense, way too tense for a five foot nothing nineteen year old, "Please tell me who brought these charges against Captain Aizen."

The pretty woman gazed at her sparkling ring for a moment longer before giggling, sighing, and turning her attention back to her boss. Her playful aura dropped in a minute and she spoke with a voice edged in iron. "These charges were filed on behalf of Rukia Kuchiki."

Toshiro frowned at her, "But by whom?"

"It was filed jointly by Detective Ichigo Kurosaki and Captain Zaraki Kenpachi, both of the thirty first precinct." Yoruichi answered crisply.

"Another _captain_ filed the charges?" Hitsugaya could barely contain himself from gaping.

"Apparently he's pretty convinced Aizen's guilty." She shrugged.

Hitsugaya groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose once again, the spot was red now from all of the massaging he was doing to that area. "Where is Miss Kuchiki now?"

"The ICU of the Seiretei Hospital."

"How bad?"

"All I know is that she hasn't woken up." Yoruichi sighed sadly, "It's really depressing to think about."

Toshiro frowned, "Wait… is this the same _Detective_ Kuchiki whose brother was killed about a year ago?"

Yoruichi nodded solemnly.

Another sigh. "Is anyone at the hospital with her?"

A small smile appeared on Yoruichi's distinctively cat-like face and she sighed romantically.

Toshiro narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

"It's just… just so sweet, really." Yoruichi roved her head around her neck and shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Ichigo Kurosaki hasn't left her side since she got there."

--

The intensive care unit in the Seiretei Hospital was well lit and well maintained. Nurses in brightly colored scrubs with little teddy bears decorating the cloth scurried around each hour; they changed sheets, fluffed pillows, fixed IV tubes, and asked constantly if Ichigo needed anything to drink or wanted something to do.

He didn't talk to them at all, he didn't look at any of them; it was like he could barely hear or see them. They just padded in and out of the room, making sure that the machine next to Rukia was constantly beeping, displaying her life on that simple monitor.

It bothered Ichigo sometimes that all they had to show for Rukia's life right now was a beeping machine with a jagged green line across the front. What about her personality, her kindness, her will, her strength… any of that? Nothing but a single green line to represent her entire being. He hated it. He wanted her to wake up.

He was currently sitting in a small, uncomfortable chair beside a large and standardized bed. Rukia was in that bed. Her body stiff but twitching. Her mouth closed and dry. Her body weak and frail. The only thing that was different about her was her right hand; it was currently pressed between Ichigo's fingers. His burned and blistered digits holding fast to hers.

Ichigo closed his eyes softly.

"_What do you mean she's not awake?" He asked dangerously, his fists were balled beside him and his body was tense. He looked completely ready to lunge at the nervous looking emergency room doctor. The tiny, balding man was twisting his hands together before him and trembling slightly._

"_W-well sir… she—she suffered damage from the mix of chloroform and smoke that she inhaled during the night. Not to mention there were several burns on her skin, a couple of slight knife wounds, and head trauma." The man gulped, he was watching Ichigo's reactions as he explained her condition. Each new ailment made his body grow taut with anger and growing terror. He looked ready to rip something—someone—to shreds._

"_When will she wake up?" Ichigo asked him quietly, trying to keep his temper in check._

"_W-w-well, I-I have t-to know if she's s-suffered an-any other trauma lately." He was beginning to sweat._

_Ichigo gritted his teeth, "What kind of trauma?"_

_The tiny man cleared his throat quickly, "Like… e-emotional or psychological?"_

_Ichigo's eyes widened, his hands gripped the man's coat collar, and slammed him back against the counter._

"_SHE WAS JUST KIDNAPPED, HELD UNDER DURESS, AND ALMOST BURNED ALIVE! DO YOU _THINK_ SHE'S SUFFERED ANY 'EMOTIONAL' OR 'PSYCHOLOGICAL' TRAUMA?" He bellowed._

_Two street cops behind him lurched forward and pulled each of Ichigo's arms; they tried to yank him off the terrified doctor while still keeping Ichigo restrained._

"_I-I'm going to g-get my s-supervi-visor." The man squeaked before sprinting off into the hospital halls, his terrified footsteps receding quickly._

"_Cool it man," one of the unknown street cops whispered behind him._

"_Shut up," said Street Cop Number Two to Street Cop Number One, "Don't get him angry."_

"_Let go of me." Ichigo snarled at them. They instantly released him and took two simultaneous steps back. Ichigo resumed pacing the entire room, ignoring the strange looks and glares that he was receiving from the occupants of the area. Some of them were muttering that Ichigo should keep his voice down, other, older people, were sighing softly whispering lightly to each other about love and relationships._

_After a small amount of time the nervous man came back, this time accompanied by an older woman with a soft and kind looking face. Her hair was long and braided down the front of her body. She was wearing an official coat and Ichigo's eyes immediately went to the tag situated on her right lapel._

"_I'm Dr. Retsu Unohana," the woman said kindly, she didn't offer her hand but tilted her head in a sympathetic gesture. "You're the person who is inquiring about Rukia Kuchiki?"_

_Ichigo nodded and replied acidly, "I would like some straight answers, if you don't mind."_

_Dr. Unohana nodded, "No problem. I'm sorry for Dr. Teshi's reluctance. He's easily frightened by loud and aggressive men." Dr. Teshi began to protest but Ichigo shot him a glare and he instantly shriveled._

"_Let's go somewhere where we can talk." The woman said softly._

"_I want to see Rukia."_

"_You will, very soon."_

_Dr. Unohana led Ichigo to a small part of the waiting room that was partially closed off from the rest of room. The street cops watched him go warily but seemed to know that he wouldn't do any harm to a woman. They simply sighed and wandered off in search of coffee._

_Ichigo didn't even bother to lean against the wall as Dr. Unohana drew in a breath and brought her thoughts together. He was just too tense._

"_Detective Kurosaki," the woman began, "Ms. Kuchiki has suffered severe damage."_

_Ichigo's throat went dry. "What kind of damage?"_

"_It's not physically permanent," the doctor amended, "What I meant to say is that after so much that has happened to her—her brother being killed, her friends after that, being kidnapped and almost murdered—all those things can cause some serious mental damage."_

_Ichigo drew a shaking hand through his hair, "So… she can get better, right?"_

_Dr. Unohana paused and sighed, "Right now she is in what we call catatonia. Technically the stupor state. It is a coma-like condition that's brought on by severe emotional stress. The body just kind of shuts down because the mind needs to recuperate."_

"_When will she wake up?"_

_The woman shrugged softly and shook her head, "That's up to her."_

_Ichigo felt his heart drop from the center of his chest. "Can't you do _anything_?"_

_The doctor shook her head. "It's up to her now. But anything could wake her up: a voice, a smell, a certain presence… I do believe that if you're in the room with her she might just wake up."_

_Ichigo's voice was shaking as he whispered, "Can I see her?"_

_Dr. Retsu Unohana smiled and nodded. "Yes. You can."_

The door to the room opened but Ichigo didn't look up. He was just too tired to look and patronize another well-meaning nurse.

It was Dr. Unohana, her soft voice floated through the air as she spoke, "Has she made any progress?"

Ichigo lifted his head and felt slightly better to see the head of the hospital standing in Rukia's room. But the feeling was squashed as soon as his vision shifted from the doctor's smiling face to Rukia's stiff body in the bed.

He sighed and tightened her hand in his. "You tell me."

"Alright…" she shuffled to the bottom of the bed and picked up a little chart. She read it quickly and sighed, "The slight fever she had is gone, her burns are healing nicely, and her vitals are stable."

"Any… change?"

She shook her head but paused as she glanced at Ichigo's disheveled state. His clothes were unwashed and dirty, his face was scruffy and tired, and his body just looked so weak. She shook her head at him and sighed, "Mr. Kurosaki. Listen to me."

Ichigo reluctantly looked up, he felt like a two year old being told off by his mother. Dr. Unohana looked at him with her caring eyes and smiled, "I will stay in this room with Miss Kuchiki while you go home, wash up, change your clothes, and get something to eat."

Ichigo reared up to protest but the doctor put up her hand, stopping his tirade in its tracks. "I realize that you care very much for Miss Kuchiki but if you don't take care of yourself then the atmosphere won't be right for her to recuperate."

Ichigo swallowed with difficulty and drew a hand through his dirty hair. He gave the doctor a sideways glance and breathed in. "Are you sure you won't leave the room?"

Dr. Unohana smiled. "Cross my heart."

Ichigo didn't move from his spot. His hand was still gripping Rukia's like he was afraid to let go. He felt like if he let go he would fall down into a deep chasm he wouldn't be able to get out of. He felt like she would be gone and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

He sighed shakily and quickly brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a lingering kiss against her skin and then rubbed her soft flesh against his brash and unshaven cheek. He wanted so badly to just stay there and sit beside her.

Dr. Unohana smiled again, "Go home, you can come right back."

He nodded quietly and reluctantly rose from the seat, his body ached from sitting in the same position for so long. He stretched softly and shook his hair. "Alright… I'll be, um, back in about an hour I guess."

"Take two." The elderly woman said kindly. Ichigo snorted once but walked towards the door. He was almost ready to exit when he turned around… just to look at her once more. Dr. Unohana was now in his vacated seat, she was sitting placidly, simply staring out the window into the bright sunlit day.

Ichigo's gaze slid down to Rukia: pale, fragile, weak, tubes suck in her arms, and machines beeping near her sides. Ichigo's throat tightened and he turned away.

In all the time that he had been with her he had known Rukia the Cop and Rukia the Woman. They were different sides of her that were combined to create a completely wonderful and charismatic person. The person Ichigo knew—he just _knew_—he was meant for. He had loved Rukia the Woman in every way possible. Everyday he was with Rukia the Cop and even then he adored every aspect of her. The combination of both made her… perfect.

But now… now she was neither Rukia the Cop nor Rukia the Woman. She was trapped inside of her own mind. She was weak. She was frail. She was just _not_ Rukia.

She was not _his_ Rukia.

"Oh, and Mr. Kurosaki," it was Dr. Unohana again.

"Yes?" Ichigo asked, his throat dry and raspy.

The woman smiled softly, "Bring a book. It might help if you read to her."

Ichigo's eyes burned but he simply nodded and left the room.

--

A pale man possessing startling green eyes and wearing a gray suit entered the room; he walked steadily to the seat directly beside Hitsugaya Toshiro. The tiny attorney raised an eyebrow as he took a seat without bothering to offer his hand to him, Yoruichi, or even the judge sitting before them.

"Pardon my tardiness, your honor," his voice was completely void of all emotion but his eyes never left the judge, "I was speaking with my client and the meeting ran a bit later than expected. I'm Ulquiorra Schiffer, Captain Aizen's attorney."

Hitsugaya bristled but kept his temper in check as the exceedingly white man with the queer colored eyes continued to ignore him.

"Mr. Schiffer," the Honorable Judge Shigekuni Yamamoto croaked, "I'm so glad you finally decided to show."

"I apologize," he said solemnly. "But I am slightly unfamiliar with the procedure of the District Attorney's office; I usually do not represent clients in these types of cases. Please, who will be prosecuting my client?"

Another vein began to throb in Toshiro's forehead and Yoruichi giggled softly. He shot her a malicious look and she just shrugged. "Well, you _are_ short."

Ulquiorra's gaze shifted from the gray haired judge to the white haired young man sitting beside him. Toshiro gave him a terse smile and held out his hand. "Assistant District Attorney Toshiro Hitsugaya and this is my second chair, Yoruichi Shihouin." He didn't add a 'pleased to meet you' simply because he didn't have any indications of pleasure towards this man.

Ulquiorra frowned and looked from the judge to the tiny man beside him and then back to the judge. He shook his head softly and muttered, "I'm sorry, your honor, I thought I was up against a celebrated A.D.A., not a high school student just finished with puberty."

Yoruichi burst out laughing and ended up clutching her stomach only moments later. Tears began to roll down her face immediately. "H-High s-school!" She threw her head back after catching a small glimpse of her bosses' enraged and purple face. "P-P-ub-ber-ty!"

"If you're going to laugh then go outside!" Toshiro roared, his fists gripping the sides of his chair.

She was out in the hallway within a second; her laugher permeated the woodwork walls until all that was entering Toshiro's ears was her ridiculous chuckling.

"Stupid… evil… damnable… woman." Toshiro snarled as he whirled around to Ulquiorra and glared at him, "_I_ will be prosecuting Captain Aizen and I might be young but I am a three year graduate of law school and I am certainly finished with puberty."

Ulquiorra's face was completely still as he scoffed and muttered, "Well, if you're finished with puberty then I feel exceedingly sorry for you and any future roller coasters you might wish to ride."

"Enough!" Judge Yamamoto barked quickly, watching closely the deadly look on Toshiro's face. "We're here to talk about a trial, not whether or not the prosecution is old enough to drink."

The man/boy in question opened his mouth to argue but the defense lawyer cut him off. "Of course sir."

Toshiro snapped his mouth shut and slithered his gaze to the door. Yoruichi was still giggling outside the office but her boss was still in a rather rancid mood and decided against calling her back in.

He turned back to the two men before him and breathed in deeply; it took him a moment to transition his mind from the furious, angry, ridiculed teen that he had been a minute ago to the smart, professional, and businesslike man he needed to be.

"Life without parole." Toshiro said, his voice deepening and an air of professionalism settling in around him.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, "Not a chance. My client isn't guilty of anything."

Toshiro frowned and shifted in his seat until he was facing his opponent. "Your client kidnapped and tried to murder Detective Rukia Kuchiki." He said solidly, "And who knows how many other people. I've contacted the thirty first precinct and they say that they're looking at your client for over thirty murders and disappearances _including_ those of four detectives."

"Those allegations are completely false; my client is a decorated member of the police force and an eight-year commander of the twenty eighth precinct. He has known ties to the community, he goes to church, and he is liked by all of his coworkers as well as employees." Ulquiorra said sternly.

"Detective Rukia Kuchiki was one of his employees." Toshiro sniped. "She ended up tied to a chair and almost burned alive inside of a building owned by Sosuke Aizen."

"That is completely circumstantial." Ulquiorra said, "The place was bought as an investment by Captain Aizen, however, when the venture didn't go as he had planned he attempted to sell it but no one would buy so he simply kept it. He had no idea what the place was being used for nor did he know anything about its inhabitants—mainly floating drug dealers and hookers. And for the kidnapping, Miss Kuchiki could have been taken hostage by someone she arrested long ago. It could have simply been a revenge abduction."

Toshiro shifted slightly in his seat, "Two detectives at the scene, Detective Kurosaki and Detective Abarai both saw and arrested Captain Aizen at the scene."

Ulquiorra snorted softly, "Detective Abarai… who grew up with Miss Kuchiki."

Toshiro glared at him. "Your point?"

"And there is also Detective Kurosaki… who is currently sleeping with Miss Kuchiki." He added nastily.

"That is irrelevant to the case at hand." Toshiro snarled, waving his hand dejectedly. "The point is that Detective Abarai had Sosuke Aizen in his possession when more than thirty people—EMS personnel, fellow detectives, and fire fighters—came to the scene."

"My client was also severely beaten," Ulquiorra added, "Detective Kurosaki assaulted him so badly that his nose is completely broken, there is damage to his ribs, and his windpipe. My client wants to sue."

"Tell him to go right ahead," Toshiro snorted, "He won't be able to use all that money in prison."

"My client is not going to prison." Ulquiorra shook his head, "We are going to fight this."

"That's fine." Toshiro glared at him, "After all, I have a witness."

"Who is currently in a comatose state in the Seiretei Hospital." Ulquiorra said softly, something that looked like a smirk crossed his face and he continued. "There is no telling when she will actually come out of it. My client has the right to a speedy trial, if I'm not mistaken."

There was a pause in the room and for the first time in a few minutes Toshiro actually noticed that Yoruichi was back in the room. She was leaning against the doorframe and listening intently. He glanced at her and nodded his head, she came forward and said, "Detective Kuchiki is in what they call a catatonic state. She is technically in a stupor and just needs time to recuperate."

"Right to a speedy trial." Ulquiorra said once again.

Toshiro wanted to hit the pale and annoying man.

The Honorable Judge Yamamoto had listened to this entire argument while observing the two men in front of him. His long white beard was nearly splayed against the top of his expensively judicial desk. The wrinkles on his face were exceedingly pronounced as he grimaced slightly and nodded his head.

"Mr. Hitsugaya," he said, his voice was creaky and old, "You have one week to produce your witness. Up until that point the trial will go on, I believe that the grand jury has already chosen to indict?"

"That is correct your honor." Toshiro said confidently.

"Fine." The judge said quietly. "I'll start the proceedings for ten o'clock in two days time."

The three lawyers in the room nodded. Ulquiorra stood first and exited after nodded slightly to the judge before them. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the presence of the short, white-haired teen genius in front of him.

Toshiro's murderous eyes followed him as he exited the room. He turned, bowed to the judge, and left the room, Yoruichi in tow.

They hustled down the hall quickly, Toshiro grumbling all the while. "I want that woman woken up and in the courtroom within the week."

Yoruichi followed him diligently. She shook her head and whispered, "I just hope Ichigo can do it in time."

--

Ichigo turned the to last page of the book and read the final passage: "_A glooming peace this morning with it brings/The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head/Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things/Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished/For never was a story of more woe/Than this of Juliet and her Romeo_."

He closed the book softly and sighed. "Not the best book to read, I guess…" he whispered as he leaned slightly forward and grasped her hand in his. He played with her soft fingers for a while before pressing a kiss to each of them. "I mean… it is about jilted lovers killing each other over one another. I know you would hate it. You can't stand stuff like that."

The machine kept beeping. Filling the silence in between them. She was stable but the contraption was mostly put there simply for Ichigo's own piece of mind. Dr. Unohana had placed the apparatus there so the hospital would know if there was any change in Rukia's condition.

"I bet you've read it before though." Ichigo continued, rubbing her hand between his. "Maybe in high school or something. But you never know, I guess."

He offered a weak smile and sighed. "When you wake up I'll read you something lighter, maybe _Much Ado About Nothing_. That actually has a happy ending."

He sighed and reached over her small body to grasp her other hand. Her left hand.

"It ends with people finding true love." He murmured, one hand holding her small fingers while the other reached into his back pocket. "People being happy." He pulled out something small and shining and slipped it onto the third finger on her left hand. "People getting married." He placed her hand back down and the bent to press a kiss to her forehead.

He sat back in the chair and began to brush hair away from her face. "But I doubt that they settle down. Even in that book, damn… Beatrice was just like you. Fiery, passionate, only you have a gun."

He shook his head, "Nah, you'd never settle. Ever."

His hand was in hers once again. His thumb was stroking her skin softly and he was occasionally pressing kisses on her flesh.

"The truth is… I love you, Rukia Kuchiki." He whispered, lacing his fingers with hers. "I was going to tell you the night you disappeared but things just didn't pan out the way I thought they would." He breathed in shakily and closed his eyes for a moment. "So I guess I'm telling you now. It's not the ideal setting or anything and you probably can't hear me… but I just had to say it."

He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head, telling himself desperately to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyes.

"Now it's your turn Rukia… you have to wake up." He drew in a ragged breath and groaned. "You just need to wake up so I can tell you for real."

He sighed, shook his head, grasped her hand, and rested beside her. His tired body desperately wanted sleep. He closed his eyes for a minute and promised himself not to let go of her hand.

--

Zaraki Kenpachi was in a bad mood.

In all honesty, he had been in a bad mood ever since Ichigo Kurosaki called him five nights ago and told him that Rukia Kuchiki was missing. Not only had he lost two of his best detectives—one because she was in a coma, or whatever the hell it was, and one because he wouldn't leave the fucking hospital—but he was also stuck with all of the work that they should have been handling. Murderers didn't stop murdering just because the local police precinct was busy. _Christ_.

Kenpachi groaned at the stack of papers on his desk and shook his head. Damn, he really didn't know how much paperwork Rukia did until she was gone. Now he was being stuck with all of her, and her partner's, undone work.

_She's not gone_, he had to remind himself, _she's just out of commission_.

He growled softly and glanced at the huge pile he still had left to do. He was stuck doing all of this while the rest of his team was working on building a case against Aizen. Not that he was shedding tears over the guy though; Kenpachi had never really liked him all that much. After all, "Aizen the Ass" had been his nickname in the Police Academy. How he ever got to be such a likeable guy in the past couple of years was beyond Kenpachi's imagination.

And now he was stuck doing all of the paperwork for his trial. He sighed and picked up another piece of paper from his desk. He considered lighting it on fire.

The phone beside him began to ring and he picked it up immediately, the old cliché "saved by the bell" floating through his head.

"Kenpachi?" He said clearly.

"It's Hitsugaya." The voice over the phone said. "Is there _any _progress?"

"Not yet." Kenpachi said, his mood dropping with each vocalized word.

There was a pause and Kenpachi could hear the irate A.D.A. gritting his teeth over the phone, "I need that woman to testify. My case is _tanking_ because she won't wake up!"

"Her _name_," the police captain snarled, "Is Detective Rukia Kuchiki. And it is your job to make sure that Aizen is put away, regardless of whether or not you have specific testimony."

"Listen, I have no evidence to convict him on even evading a parking ticket! You've told me all the facts and I can't use any of them to take down Aizen. Not to mention all of the evidence was obtained _illegally_. I need Detective Kuchiki to testify."

"You can't have it until she wakes up." Kenpachi said, fighting the urge to tease the irate man.

"Well she had better wake up in the next day or so because if she's not on that stand in forty eight hours the defense will argue insufficient evidence and the charges will be dismissed and after that jeopardy is attached! I don't think you want that any more than I do!" The tiny attorney was practically screaming.

Kenpachi hardly batted an eyelash at the A.D.A.'s heated voice. "I'll pass that on to the hospital."

"You had better." Slam.

Drawing the phone away from his ear the chief sighed and began punching the number to the hospital. He knew better than to actually call Ichigo. He wouldn't answer.

--

Beeping. That was all she could hear. Beeping.

And breathing.

Someone was beside her. She could feel how warm her hand was. Something was holding it. Holding it tight too. She sighed softly at how warm it felt. She shifted her legs and shook her head, wondering why she felt so heavy and… and… sedated.

What the hell was going on? She felt like she was being crushed. Heavy… heavy things were on top of her and she just wanted them gone.

Her breathing was just a bit heavier as she shifted her neck to the side and blearily opened one eye. Then another.

Orange.

She saw orange. Lots of orange. Fluffy orange. Spiked orange. Orange. She knew that color orange. She loved that color orange. Only that color orange.

She opened her mouth to speak but found that her throat was so dry she could barely form the words.

He was lying his head down directly by her side. Her hand was pressed against his cheek softly as he breathed lightly. Her hand was almost completely trapped against his face but she had enough room to wiggle her fingers out from underneath him. He was sleeping. He looked so peaceful when he slept.

She wanted to reach out and touch the top of his head. Her body was weak and she knew it, she felt so tired, but she just wanted to see him before she rested for a while.

She lifted her hand gently, just long enough so her fingertips could brush the soft hair on his head and then touch his scalp underneath. She ran her hand through his silken locks a few more times before she felt him stir.

She saw him blink a few times before he raised his head and looked at her. Immediately, his half-drowsy eyes became wider and his breath drew in on a sharp note.

"Rukia…" his voice was loose and weak and strangled. It was unlike anything she had ever heard from him before.

Weakly, she drew her lips together in a small but precious smile and whispered, "Hi."

--

Toshiro Hitsugaya was seated in his desk, his hands in his hair, ready to tear out every single strand.

Yoruichi popped her head inside his office and grinned, "Telephone call on line one. It's Kenpachi."

He picked it up immediately. "Yes?"

"She's awake." The police chief said. He sounded like he was grinning over the phone.

Toshiro smirked. "Get her in here as soon as possible. I need to prep her for her testimony. She's got thirty six hours until she needs to appear in court."

"I'll see what I can do."

The phone clicked shut and Toshiro—for the first time in the last five days—grinned heartily. He looked up at Yoruichi and nodded, "We've got him."


	20. Ringing In My Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: I've been so busy lately, but oh well, AP tests are done—forever!! But here's the next chapter, just because I love you all!**

**Once again, thank everyone for all the reviews, they are so FANTASTIC!! All of you rock!!**

**PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW!!)**

**Chapter 19**

Ichigo's heart stopped in his chest the moment he saw her violet eyes light upon his. Her hand was brushing through his hair and on her lips was a soft smile. Christ, it was the first time he had ever seen him smile like that. He wanted to capture her face just the way it was. Her smile and perfect lips and the way she was looking at him… everything he just wanted to capture.

His legs practically screamed as he rose stiffly from his chair and cupped her cheek in his hand. Her fingers fell from his hair and he grabbed that hand as well.

His lips descended on hers softly, barely touching their mouths together. He felt like if he pressed too hard then he would break her into a thousands pieces. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip for just a moment when she gave a small groan. He was off of her in an instant and was ready to call for a nurse when she reached up a bit and tugged weakly on the bottom of his shirt. His attention was completely on her once again, "What is it Rukia?"

She gave him a small, limp, smile and whispered, "Its okay. I'm sorry… it's just… I must be a mess right now."

He could have kissed her again for that. He crouched down beside her and murmured, "No… no. Jesus, you're beautiful Rukia. As always."

She sighed and closed her eyes softly. "And you're just as good a liar. As always."

"Not really." He sighed in relief. Christ, just _knowing_ that she was awake was practically making his heart burst out of his chest. He was bent in the chair, his face next to hers, her hand pressed between his. Oddly enough, he was trying so hard not to start crying.

"Ichigo…" she rasped, her voice dry but calm.

"Yeah?" He answered immediately.

"Could… could you get me a glass of water?" She asked, raising her free hand to her throat. "I'm thirsty."

Ichigo almost laughed in relief… again. "Yes." He breathed softly. "Yes, Rukia, I'll get you a glass of water." He rose from the chair and squeezed her hand once again. He bent to press a kiss to her forehead and she sighed when she felt his silky lips against her skin.

Ichigo bolted almost immediately to the bathroom and filled a cup of water for her.

_She's awake. She's awake. She's awake. She's awake. Thank you fucking Jesus she's awake!_ His mind screamed as he rushed back towards her.

He appeared near her side and in a minute knew that something was wrong. Her eyes were open and she was gripping the sides of the bed. Her breathing was labored and she was trembling violently.

"Rukia?" He cried, lurching forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand was on her cheek and he instantly felt how cold and sweaty her skin was. "Rukia?" He asked again. His brows knit together and his heart began to palpitate even more.

Her eyes desperately sought him out and she kept shaking, "A-Aiz-zen?" She asked, her violet orbs welling wetly.

Ichigo's heart almost stopped when he saw that she was nearly crying. He hadn't seen her cry in over a year. Hell, the last time had been when she had seen her brother, stabbed and lying on the ground.

"Rukia," he murmured, he pulled her to his chest and she came willingly, her weak body collapsing easily into his strong grip. "It's okay. Everything is alright. He's gone, he's arrested, he's being tried right now."

She pressed her face against his chest and snaked her arms around his waist. "Oh… God… Jesus. I—I…"

"You remember?" He said softly.

She nodded slowly after a few moments of silence. Ichigo held her tighter and began to rock her gently from side to side. "Shh… it's alright. He can't hurt you."

Her breathing was still shuddering but the shaking was beginning to subside. "Oh my God…" she murmured, her nails digging into his back. "Oh my God… my God…"

"It's alright." Ichigo murmured, kissing the top of her silken locks. Damn, even after five days in a catatonic state she still smelled like fresh water and cherry blossoms. It must have been a gift sent down from the heavens.

Her breath was warming his shirtfront and he sighed once again, distinctly breathing in her lovely scent.

"W-will I have to testify?" She murmured, her voice small and fragile.

"Not right away." He whispered, knowing that he was lying to her but not really being able to help himself. "You're okay for now."

She nodded against him and then sighed once again. He released her quietly and then reached to her bedside table to take her glass of water. He pressed it into her hands and she smiled at him lightly. He felt a small shiver run down his spine as he saw her pale but gorgeous face shine with a smile. Damn, he needed to get used to that. Smiling, that is. But fuck she looked beautiful when she smiled.

She sipped the water slowly, he could practically see the cool liquid running down her throat as she swallowed. The look of peace and gratitude on her face was amazing. When she was finished he took the tiny cup and set it beside them.

"Rest," he commanded softly, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. "Just for a bit. Then once you're finished sleeping we'll talk about… everything."

She yawned softly and muttered, "I've slept for so long. I'm not tired." Another yawn. Ichigo chuckled. He released her gently and pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right beside you. If you need me… you know."

Her head dropped back a bit and she turned quietly towards him. "Ichigo…"

He nodded at her, "Yes?"

She raised a small hand and pressed it to the top of his hair. She flitted her fingers through his brilliantly orange locks and smiled just a bit longer. "Can you… come up here and—and just…" he could hear her words become strangled towards the end and he instantly understood.

He nodded softly and stood slowly. She smiled at him and began to shift on the hospital bed she was in. He climbed in gently beside her and made sure that his body didn't interfere with any of the IV's stuck to her arms. He pulled her softly to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed and pressed her face into his chest. In a few moments she was asleep.

She was to his right and turned on her side, her left hand was resting peacefully on his chest. He looked down and saw the tiny golden band across her finger. It sparkled in the dim lights of the room. Ichigo wondered when she would notice it.

He smiled and gently touched each of her fingers, pausing momentarily to trace the ring. When she saw it… he had a feeling she would smile once again.

-!!-

"Is she stable?" Yoruichi asked Ichigo as they stood outside of Rukia's exam room. The doctor was inside, gently prodding and poking the female detective until she looked ready to snap the poor man's arm. Ichigo smiled softly as he watched her demand that the doctor remove her IV tubes immediately, stating that she felt perfectly fine and didn't need them anymore.

Ichigo shrugged and sighed, "I would think so."

Yoruichi gave him a skeptical look, "What about emotionally?"

Ichigo swallowed and frowned a bit.

Yoruichi kept her eyes on Ichigo as she asked, "Is she ready to stand in the same room with a man who tried to burn her alive?"

He remained silent. His gaze trained on the woman he was now watching hop out of bed and walk around the room—just to prove to the nervous doctor that she could.

"I don't know." He murmured, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

Yoruichi frowned at him, "You don't know." She stated flatly.

Ichigo rounded on her and growled, "I don't know, okay?" He sighed fruitlessly and ran a hand through his orange hair, "She'll say that she is, I know she will but… I'm not so sure."

There was a pause between them and after a moment, Yoruichi sighed, "Well then it's a good thing she's well enough to make her own decisions."

Ichigo scowled and looked away. "I wish I could make the decisions for her."

The woman beside him snorted, "The day you start making decisions for that woman is the day hell freezes over." She sighed and straightened her shoulders. "The trial starts again in another day or so, I need substantial evidence telling the judge that she is awake and will be there to testify. She won't actually have to do it for a few more days though." She added swiftly.

"The trial is moving through pretty quickly." Ichigo remarked quietly. "These things usually last a long time."

Yoruichi nodded, "Mr. Schiffer is pushing everything through so fast, I think he wanted to catch us off guard. But I'm pretty sure his plans are wrinkled now that Rukia is up and… moving."

Ichigo snorted as he heard something break in Rukia's room. "Moving would be an understatement."

Dr. Teshi, the frightened doctor who was already scared shitless of Ichigo, ran out of the room with a terrified look on his face.

Ichigo smirked slightly and nodded to Yoruichi, who raised her eyebrows, picked up her briefcase, and left the hospital corridor.

Ichigo knocked on the door and smiled softly, "Are you decent?"

"Do you care?" Was the immediate answer.

He let out a small chuckle and opened the door. She was standing in the center of the room, her arms wrapped around her back while trying to latch the clasp on her bra. She was snarling softly while continually missing the mark. "Damn IV tubes…" she sniped, "I can barely feel my arms."

"Here," Ichigo said, "Give that to me."

She shot him an irritated look over her shoulder and shook her head, "Nuh uhn mister. I'm recovering, you can't jump me."

He glared at her but stepped forward a bit, "I wasn't going to jump you. Even though it pains me to say so I'm not going to jump you for a long time." He sighed and took hold of the edges of her bra clasp. Her hands dropped to her sides as he clicked them together and kissed the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulders. His hands ran down the planes of her back and she rolled her head back softly.

Ichigo bent forward and kissed her cheek. He felt her lips pull back into a smile and felt his heart tug just a bit harder. "I'm so glad you're okay."

She sighed and nodded, "Me too."

They stayed like that for a moment, his lips lingering on her cheek while his hands grasped her shoulders lightly. He just stood there and breathed, taking in everything about her that he could.

Christ, he loved her so much.

"I had better put a shirt on before we do something to… _hinder_… my recovery." She murmured, stepping away from him slightly.

"Yeah," he muttered, moving away just a bit. Fitfully, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He watched her as she moved towards the crisply made hospital bed and picked up a light, short-sleeved shirt he had brought from her apartment. She slipped it over her head and straightened it before flipping her raven locks out from underneath the collar.

Ichigo blinked and continued to stare; it was as if she was moving in slow motion. Her left hand dove down to the nape of her neck and lightly flipped her hair up. He saw the glint of metal on her finger and swallowed hard. Sweet Jesus… had she really not noticed it yet?

"Thank you for getting my clothes from my house." She said quietly as she turned to smile at him. Ichigo immediately felt a weakening of his knees as her upturned lips burned themselves into his brain.

"You're… welcome." He muttered, swallowing hard and staring down at his feet.

Rukia frowned, "What's the matter?"

_You haven't noticed the ring I put on your finger_.

Ichigo looked up and shrugged, "Nothing."

She still looked skeptical, "Are you sure?"

_No. Every time you smile I want to kiss you._

"Yeah." He cleared his throat in a manly way and nodded towards the door. "Come on, we need to get you to court."

"I thought I didn't have to testify today." Rukia's voice dropped its warmth and a cold chill ran up Ichigo's spine. Damn, he was still going to have to get used to her actually being… well, _afraid_.

He came towards her and squeezed her shoulder, "You won't." He said, bending down just a bit and kissing her soft cheek, "But the D.A. will probably want to prep your testimony."

He backed away from her a bit and watched as her pale face changed from an expression of fear to one of disgust. She snorted and shrugged her shoulders, Ichigo's hand falling lifeless to his side. She began to walk towards the door and he followed, loving the fact that she was awake and hell, just able to walk.

"I've been in court before." She growled quietly. "I know how to handle myself in a courtroom."

"Aizen will be there." Ichigo said as they came up to the hospital counter. Rukia grasped the pen on the counter and gracefully signed her name to the release sheet.

She swallowed lightly and let out a light breath. "I know." She said softly, finishing the dots of her last name. She smiled and turned to him, resting her left hand on the counter, "But I think that once I see him, sitting in that chair, powerless… I think I'll be able to do it."

Ichigo nodded and let his eyes flicker to her left hand briefly. She was tapping her fingernails lightly on the hard surface while the tiny band on her third finger glittered shyly.

The elderly woman watching the front desk saw the ring on Rukia's hand and immediately looked up at Ichigo's face. She must have seen something in his eyes or noticed the strange way his lips were pursed together, because she seemed to know exactly what was going on between the people standing before her. She grinned at him proudly and winked, then turned to Rukia, "Congratulations." She said kindly, grinning warmly at the two of them.

Rukia turned to the woman at the desk and frowned at her. She only smiled in return and continued answering phones.

Ichigo sighed inwardly and shook his head. Good lord she was thick.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking Rukia by the elbow and pulling her towards the door.

The woman simply chuckled and went back to work.

"What was that about?" Rukia asked, her tone of voice clearly showing that she was irritated about something.

_I'm irritated too Rukia,_ Ichigo practically screamed, _I want you to actually _look_ at your left hand… and tell me YES!_

"Oh, well she must have been talking about you recovering." He answered simply, his voice was low and his tone was sober.

Her eyes were still narrowed, "How did she even know I was here anyway? I mean, how did she know about me specifically?"

A red stain began in Ichigo's neck and proceeded upwards just a bit. He could feel Rukia's gaze on him as his ears began to blossom into a tinted cherry color.

She was smirking, he could tell that without even looking at her. "What?" She asked, her voice was a mix between humor and doubt.

"Nothing." He said immediately.

"Bull," she snorted, "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're being evasive."

"You're being annoying."

"You're blushing."

"Just be quiet." He growled as they reached his car. He came up to the passengers' side door and opened it quickly, hoping that Rukia would just get in without any more questions.

Sadly, it was not to be. She planted himself firmly before the car door and snickered. Her face was defiant and upturned and her lips were twisted into a cruel smirk. Ichigo would have wanted to turn that smirk slack and moaning but he kept his hands pinned at his side, afraid to even _touch_ her for fear of wanting… more.

She raised an eyebrow and clicked her tongue, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you were blushing."

"Then I guess you'll be standing for a while." Ichigo responded coldly, feeling a light and chilly February breeze rifle through his hair.

Rukia simply stood there, solid as a pillar, her hair drifting softly in the breeze. Her arms were locked around her stomach and her hands were tucked neatly in her elbows. There was a small smirk on her beautiful lips and her eyes carried a simply malicious glint.

They stood quiet for a few moments before she shrugged and shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "You know," she began conversationally, "With me recovering and all I really don't think it would be very healthy for me to be standing here, in the middle of February, wearing only a short-sleeved shirt while I _patiently_ wait for you to tell me why, in fact, you were blushing."

Ichigo didn't feel like telling her that that exact thought had crossed his mind as well and it was killing him to actually let her stand there like that without bodily picking her up and shoving her into the car. He glared at her and set his jaw, his face decorated with a deeper scowl than before. "I made a scene, alright?" He snarled hopelessly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Rukia's eyebrow went up and she tilted her head to the side, "You… what?"

Shit he did not want to repeat himself. "I made a scene… kind of," he muttered and finally looked down at the ground, his toe shoving an intrusive pebble away, "You were out of it, I didn't know what was going on, I was… scared. So I might have… yelled—gently—at a few people."

Her raised eyebrow slowly went down and her arms unwound from their place around her waist. Her gaze took on a less severe look and a tiny smile broke out onto her face.

Ichigo chose that moment to look up and yell at her to shut up and get into the car, only to stop short at the sight of her gently face. "Christ," he muttered, laughing nervously and rubbing his hand across his face, "I'm… going to have to get used to that."

Rukia frowned, "Get used to what?"

He took a step forward, raised both hands to her cheeks, grasped them lightly, and pulled her face upwards for a sweet kiss. She groaned slightly at the butterfly gesture and nipped gently at his lips, he continued to brush them with his own, careful not to intrude too rapidly into her welcoming sweetness. He pulled away softly but his eyes opened immediately so he could see her slightly furrowed brow, her wonderful pink lips, and her lashes dancing across her cheeks.

He watched her as she opened her luminous violet eyes and stared deeply into his. It was a type of stare that could steal a man's entire soul if he let it. And by God, Ichigo knew that his soul belonged to her the moment he had met her.

Well, maybe the second time… the time when he _hadn't _been pointing a gun at her face.

Ichigo smirked and murmured, "I'm going to have to get used to seeing you smile."

Her lungs drew in a short gasp of air and he gently rubbed his nose against hers. He was fully aware of how mushy he was being at the moment, but oddly enough—he didn't care.

He shrugged his head to the side, "Come on, we need to get you to the D.A."

-!!-

Toshiro and Yoruichi stood slowly and nodded their heads, "Thank you very much Miss Kuchiki." Yoruichi smirked and shuffled a bit but didn't say a work, Toshiro glared at his associate for a moment before looking back to Rukia and Ichigo. Rukia Kuchiki was sitting in a chair right in front of his desk, her hands were individually clasped on her knees, her face was pale, and her lips were tight. Ichigo was leaning tersely near the edge of the room; his gaze was trained on Rukia and occasionally flicked down to her hands. Toshiro knew the reason why Ichigo was staring but he still didn't know why Rukia hadn't figured it out yet.

_Woman must still be ill_, he thought exhaustedly.

He cleared his throat and continued, "I know this was very hard for you to do but I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation."

Rukia nodded and swallowed softly, "I do."

Yoruichi chimed in and spoke, "We don't know when the judge will order your appearance. Ulquiorra will more than likely ask for you to come quickly because he wants to rattle you. Can you handle that?"

Rukia nodded, her voice was staid and tough, "I'll do what I need to do."

"Good," Toshiro said firmly, "Just don't recant and we should be fine."

Rukia nodded once again, "Just call me when you need me."

Toshiro held out his hand and the female detective stood to take it, her fingers grasped his in a firm handshake and he immediately felt confident that his entire case was not going to be flushed down the toilet, "Alright, go home and get some rest. We'll tell you the day you appear."

"Alright, thank you." She said before turning around and looking towards Ichigo. He reached forward softly and touched a light hand to her shoulder.

"Come on," he murmured, he looked towards the D.A.'s in the room and mouthed 'thank you' before going out of the room. His hand never left her shoulder as they walked towards the exit. She kept glancing over towards him a few times but always averted her eyes when he looked back.

He led her out to the car and murmured, "So do you just want to go back to your apartment or get something to eat?"

She opened the door to the dark vehicle and pulled herself inside, "I want to go home… and I was wondering if you would actually cook for me?" She looked at him gently, "I want you to know that when I woke up from my nap today I was thinking of the chicken parmesan you made me the night we first made love."

Ichigo chuckled, "You actually remember what we ate?"

She nodded.

"I can only remember the positions."

Rukia glared at him as he continued down the road, "Now, that's the part that's all a blur to me."

Ichigo gave her a quick glance, "Was it a blur because you were so satisfied you barely knew what was going on or was it a blur because you forced yourself to _forget_?"

Rukia remained silent but a smirk was covering her lips, "I think you know the answer to that," she muttered softly.

Ichigo's hand, which had been lying on the gearshift, started gently at the touch of her fingers against his. He took his eyes from the road for a moment and glanced down at their joined hands. The fingers of her left hand were inside the ones of his right. He could feel an intrusion growing in his throat as he tightened his grip slightly. Rukia was not looking at their hands; instead she was looking at him, watching his face with those gorgeous eyes of hers. He gave her an exceedingly weak smile before taking her hand in his all the way and encasing it completely so she wouldn't be able to see the golden band around her ring finger—should she actually look, that is. He didn't want her to see it now, not while he was driving and couldn't focus on her.

They drove for only a few more minutes before Ichigo pulled into a spot in front of her apartment complex and released her. She smiled softly at him before she exited the car and waited for him to come. He could tell by her slack posture and her welcoming face that she wanted him to make love to her. And Christ he wanted to, he wanted to so badly it was truly hurting him to stay as he was. But now wasn't right. She needed time to recuperate properly and to eat. He needed time to figure out just what the hell he was going to say to her when she finally realized there was an engagement band around her finger.

Ichigo ran a hand through his unruly hair as he walked with Rukia up towards her apartment. The crime scene tape had been removed in interests of decorum and everything was as it should be—the blood stains had been lifted from the floor and even the broken lamp had been removed.

Ichigo gave her the key and she frowned at him softly, he shrugged and muttered, "I took your keys when I took a break from the hospital. That was when I got your clothes."

She opened the door and came inside, her body slowly moving towards the couch. She set her jacket down on a nearby hook and turned to Ichigo, he was inside of her apartment as well—it was actually kind of funny to see how well he had already mastered the layout of her home.

She frowned a bit and murmured, "Ichigo… how did you know I was going to wake up?" She sat down on the couch but kept her focus on him. "I mean… didn't it look… grim?"

Ichigo shook his head and snorted, he came to the couch and sat next to her, "Rukia, I knew you would wake up just because you're you." He reached out a hand and ran it over her cheek, pushing some of her hair back lightly. "Come on, Rukia Kuchiki not getting out of something she did not voluntarily go into? That would just be going against your nature."

She nodded and reached up to grasp the hand that was on hers. She was leaning forward gently, her mouth pulling magnetically towards him.

Ichigo bent down just enough to brush his mouth against hers, her sinfully tempting lips just barely touching his.

"Ichigo," she murmured, she moved her fingers softly and moved them to the back of his head, gripping the short strands of his orange hair tightly before pressing herself completely against her mouth.

He groaned as he felt her soft, pink, rose-petal lips open and slowly suck on him. Sweet Jesus… how was he supposed to remain in control when she was kissing him like this?

His hand moved closer towards the nape of her neck and he slowly began to respond to her. His mouth parted softly and he groaned as he tasted her tiny pink tongue sliding into his mouth in order to coax him gently.

He shuddered after a moment and pulled away from her. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing faster than usual. It took him a moment to realize that he was panting as well. He slowly watched as her eyes opened and blinked. Her normally amethyst irises were staring hurtfully at his. She swallowed once before looking away and taking her hand away from his hair.

He caught her within a second; he jerked her head slightly so she would look at him. She tried looking away but he wouldn't let her.

"You're repulsed." Rukia snorted softly.

Ichigo shook his head, his amber beams never abandoning her violet ones, "Don't you dare think like that Rukia. Don't ever."

She swallowed hard, "Then why won't you touch me?" She murmured then coughed disgustedly, "Look at me… begging like a jilted lover."

"Rukia…" he drew her close and immediately pressed a kiss to her mouth. She whimpered slightly and he released her. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and her eyelids; she made a soft croaking sound in her throat as he murmured, "I just don't want to hurt you."

He felt her brows scrunching under his mouth and drew back so he could look at her.

"Hurt me?" She whispered, her hand was on his shoulder and the other was sitting in her lap.

Ichigo nodded, "Rukia, you just came from the hospital and you need some time to rest." He laughed half-heartedly and murmured, "I hardly doubt that making love to you—even though I really, _really _want to—would allow you to rest."

She was quiet for a few moments as she sat before him and looked deep inside of his eyes. She knew that he was telling the truth. He wouldn't lie to her face.

Rukia nodded after a minute and sighed heartily. "Can you at least kiss me before you send me off to bed—or shower or to the feeding trough—wherever?"

He smiled in relief and in a second his lips were moving over hers. She opened to him instinctively and drew herself closer to his body. Ichigo groaned softly as one of his hands grasped her waist and the other stroked her cheek. She was simpering beneath his oral onslaught and practically begging him to continue. He tasted every inch of her and pulled her close to him as she wrapped all of her fingers into his hair.

Her hands were linked behind his head as he kissed her sweetly but vigorously. He could feel her caressing his scalp. Her soft fingertips were brushing each other as she moaned against him. Ichigo knew he needed to stop soon. He knew he needed to… but damn it if he didn't want to.

Her hands overlapped each other on the back of his head, trying desperately to pull him closer and overtop of her body but he resisted her tugs. He couldn't—not now… there would be a time for languorous lovemaking later, but not now. Now he just needed her to be healthy.

Then abruptly, she stopped. Her mouth froze over his and her body went completely stiff. Ichigo ceased kissing her and immediately drew away, hoping to God that he hadn't hurt her in any way. _Damn_, he knew he shouldn't have kissed her so hard.

"What's wrong?" He asked breathlessly as he drew away slightly, "Did I hurt you?"

The look on her face was pure terror. Ichigo couldn't even fathom the amount of fear he saw laced inside of her violet irises: it was traumatic and frightening and still managed to hold out enough room for panic to spiral inside.

"Rukia?" Ichigo whispered, his heart beginning to race with his own batch of fear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She was shaking now, his hands were on her shoulders trying to keep her still but he barely could. Her body was racking with shivers and he didn't know why. Christ, she was scaring him!

But slowly, ever so slowly, Ichigo watched as her hands came from their locked position around his neck, they had been slack for a few minutes but now they were being drawn in between the both of them.

Ichigo's eyes widened. _Oh… shit_.

Her head was bent, staring at her hands—which were shaking the most out of everything. Her fingers on the right twisting the ring of gold on the left.

Ichigo felt a bucket of icy water tossed on his insides as her thumb and pointer finger twisted the band continuously. Her hand was flexing and then relaxing. Flexing and then relaxing. Flexing and—and… damn, was she going to say something?

"Rukia," he croaked, "Rukia… just, um, could you… listen for a second?"

Her head began shaking back and forth, her bangs shaking into her eyes as she breathed in unsteadily.

"Rukia," he tried to get her head up, tried to make her look at him, but she wouldn't. She just sat there, still and trembling.

"I think you should leave now." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ichigo's face drained of blood and he froze in place. Christ, he felt the same way he had felt when he saw her tied to a chair. He felt powerless and weak. All he could do was say her name.

"Rukia… please, I—I can take it back. We don't have to talk about this. We can just go and rest and—"

She still hadn't raised her head but her voice was clear as she spoke, "I think you should leave now."

A lump was forming in Ichigo's throat and he practically gasped for breath as she turned her body away from him and continued to stare downward.

"Rukia… please." He whispered, his voice almost on the edge of pleading.

"Leave now, please."

She didn't look up as he lingered for only a moment more before he stood numbly and took his coat from its resting place. He stumbled towards the door and opened it jerkily, throwing the woman on the couch one last, desperate look before exiting her apartment and closing the door behind him. Ichigo could barely think straight. _I think you should leave_. That's what she said. Nothing else. There was nothing.

He breathed in shakily and pulled a hand through his hair as he sat in the drivers' seat of the car. Great, now he was the one who was trembling.

He started the car and for a brief moment wondered why his body wasn't running after her. It should have been racing up the stairs, pounding on the door, bursting in and then making passionate love to her on every surface of her apartment.

Should have… but wasn't.

Ichigo began to sweat as he started the car and pulled out. He'd check on her in the morning. He'd have to or else he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

As Ichigo drove to his apartment—almost wrecking three times—he remembered something that gave him the tiniest sliver of hope…

She hadn't given him back the ring.

-!!-

Rukia sat alone on her apartment couch. Her brain too fuddled and twisted to even bother thinking about moving around.

She simply sat there, twisting the ring on her finger. She had been doing that for hours now. It was already past seven and she hadn't moved since Ichigo had brought her home around one. Her finger was raw and red but she didn't care. She couldn't care if she rubbed the damn skin _off_.

Beside her, the phone started to ring. Rukia let it ring. She just stared out into the dark room and twisted the ring on her finger.

The machine picked up the call and she listened to the voice mail. "_Miss Kuchiki, its Toshiro Hitsugaya. I have some bad news. Aizen's lawyer wants you in court tomorrow. I know it's sudden but I'm pretty sure he wants you to be sandbagged and sandbagged hard. Come to the courthouse tomorrow at nine, we'll need your testimony by at least ten. I'm sure Kurosaki can come pick you up or something like that. Anyway, just come prepared and be ready to put away a murderer_."

Rukia's throat quivered as she heard the message. Her eyes looked down through the tears now impeding her vision.

She stared at the ring, bent her head into her arms, and cried.


	21. Trials of the Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: I hope everyone likes this chapter as much as I liked writing it!**

**Oh, and I apologize to any lawyers or law students or people affiliated with the law who might be reading this fic—although I'm not really sure why you would…—all these terms and procedures I learned from Law and Order. Yes, I am a proud Law and Order junkie, XD.**

**P.S. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER!! DON'T PANIC**

**Anyway: PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!)**

**Chapter 20**

Rukia stepped off the decrepit city bus and brushed the dirt from the front of her business skirt. She personally hated the thing but she needed to look presentable when she testified against Aizen. She scooted forward just a bit so the other people getting off the bus behind her stopped bugging her to move.

She swallowed and looked up at the courthouse steps. Reporters were buzzing about, assaulting passing attorney's and high profile clients whenever they came out of the building. She could see the bright lights of the camera's as they flashed in someone's face and truthfully hoped that once this was over her face would not be captured by one of them.

She gingerly made her way forward, careful to skirt around any group of reporters near the middle of the steps. As the walked she calmly looked to the very top of the concrete stairs, standing directly on the side of the gaping doors was a statue of Lady Justice, one of her arms holding a scale and the other clasping a book tightly to her breast. There was a tight blindfold around her eyes—barring her senses from seeing anything other than the bronzed bandana. Rukia felt an iron hand clutching at her heart and willed herself to continue on. She just needed to get this over with.

She still couldn't believe how quickly this case was being processed. Normally, cases dealing with murder took months to prepare, Rukia scowled grimly and just hoped that Toshiro had had adequate time to prepare his arguments, because there was no way in hell that she was going to sit up on that stand in full view of the man who tried to kill her and have him walk for dozens of murders. Hell, if Toshiro didn't get a guilty verdict she sure as hell would give Aizen one anyway, mainly by using her gun and a good hiding spot. She gently fingered the detectives' badge she had put away in her jacket pocket. She took a deep breath. One thing at a time. She needed to hear the verdict before she did anything rash. She just needed to deal with one thing at a time… once this was over… well, she'd deal with other issue.

She walked up the rest of the steps quickly and came towards the door. The courthouse was a gaping expanse of marble, oak, and decoratively constitutional wall-hangings. She looked from side to side and ended up glancing inside grand rooms with numerous benches and podiums. Guards stood outside the doors in which trials were being conducted and Rukia briefly wondered what was going on inside of some of them. Were there other murder cases being tried inside of those closed rooms? Or were they just petty things dealing with financial arguments? Larceny? Fraud? Things like that… Rukia felt a vile taste rise in her mouth when she thought about it. She knew that those types of cases were important to some but right now all she could feel was disgust. How could people be arguing over money when a man was being tried for ending the lives of his comrades? Or worse yet, how could people be squabbling over such things while the very words coming out of her mouth could stick a cocktail of needles into Sosuke Aizen's veins? She simply couldn't understand it.

Rukia shook her head slightly and began to look at the numbers of the courthouses in earnest. She needed building three A. After a few minutes of wandering around Rukia knew she was lost, she stopped a court officer and asked him to point her towards the correct room. He nodded and gave her simple directions. Within five minutes she was in front of the room where she would give her testimony. She nodded to the guard before she went inside and gazed about the empty courtroom.

There was the empty pulpit where Toshiro would stand and make his case. There was the desk where Ulquiorra and Aizen would sit and watch her as she testified against him. There was the raised bureau where the Honorable Judge Yamamoto would sit and swing his tiny gavel, breaking its small sound across the courtroom, asking for silence.

Rukia's stomach clenched again and she felt like she might throw up.

"Miss Kuchiki?"

She turned around and was immediately graced by the tall and lithe figure of the assistant district attorney she had met yesterday. Yoruichi Shihouin—that's was her name was. Rukia nodded weakly at the woman as she came in her direction.

Yoruichi smiled at her softly and placed a hand on her shoulder, Rukia had to try hard not to flinch, "Hey, what are you doing here?" She asked in a friendly voice. "You're not supposed to testify for another hour. And where is that orange headed oaf? He was supposed to be your detail today."

Rukia felt her throat go completely dry. "U-Um… he's n-not here, I just came on t-the bus."

Yoruichi lifted and eyebrow, "The bus?" She narrowed her eyes and stared closely at Rukia. "Is there something going on… between the two of you… that I should know about?" She asked skeptically.

Rukia shook her head jerkily and tried to shrug her shoulders, the silly little motion, however, did nothing to dissuade the piercing and cat-like stare of Yoruichi. "It's… nothing. Just a little, um, spat, I guess."

Yoruichi was still glaring at her, as if she knew that Rukia was lying through her teeth. "Alright." She muttered softly, the hand on her shoulder shifted down towards her elbow and gripped it gently. "Come on," she said, leading Rukia away from the courtroom. "The trial starts in about forty five minutes, we'll need you there almost immediately."

Rukia paled slightly, "But I thought that you had other people who were going to come and give their testimony." She blanched.

Yoruichi gave her a strange look over her shoulder and shook her head grimly, "We've already put the doctor at the hospital on the stand, Dr. Unohana, I think her name was, and that's about all we have in the terms of witnesses. Honestly, you're the only one who can put the bastard away."

Rukia felt a cold stone of guilt drop into her stomach, "It's because I obtained the cocaine and the katana rust illegally."

Yoruichi nodded, "I'm not going to sugar coat it for you, what you did was fucking stupid, if you had suspicions you should have given them to me and I would have approved a search warrant."

"We didn't have sufficient evidence for a warrant." Rukia muttered.

"I could have made it work," the tan woman shrugged, "It's all in finding the right judge." She paused before a small door and knocked twice before entering. Rukia came in after her and glanced quickly around the room.

To her surprise Toshiro Hitsugaya was not the only one in the room.

"Captain," she murmured, her body rigid as she frowned at her boss, Yoruichi also greeted the man but went straight to Hitsugaya, the two mumbled in quiet voices while Rukia spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Zaraki Kenpachi stood up slowly and wrinkled his nose when the tips of his hair hit the fluorescent lights of the room and jingled slightly. The large man offered her his hand and she took it, his grip was powerful as he shook her much smaller appendage up and down twice. "Came here to see the trial."

"Oh," Rukia said, feeling like a complete idiot for asking such a mundane question.

She and Kenpachi stared at each other for a moment before he shoved his hands into his pockets and said in his low and gravelly voice, "Aizen and I were in the academy together and even then I knew the guy had problems. I just want to be there to see the bastard put away. After all," he smirked and nodded at Rukia, "Anyone who tries to off one of _my_ detectives deserves a lethal injection."

Rukia felt her weak lips curl into a smile and nodded, "Thank you." She muttered, hoping that he could recognize the true gratitude that was displayed in her voice.

After a few more seconds Kenpachi looked towards the door and frowned, "Where's Kurosaki? Is he waiting outside?"

The female detective felt a shameful blush creek up her neck and hide itself in her ears. "Um, no," she said quietly, "He's… not here."

Kenpachi raised an eyebrow, "Then how did you get here?"

"She took the bus." Yoruichi snorted, briefly looking up from the page she and Toshiro were pouring over. She shook her head once and then returned to the page.

"The _bus_?" Kenpachi repeated dully. He looked over at Rukia and frowned, "You've got a man who's head over heels in love with you, who'd lick the bottom of your shoes if you asked him to, and who would definitely drive you to a trial in which you're testifying, and you took the _bus_?"

Rukia felt all the blood drain from her face as her captain scowled and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "You two are such fucking idiots. I can't believe my two best detectives are so stupid."

Rukia's mouth was dry and she was about to respond when someone knocked on the door to the room and poked their heads in, by the looks of things, the man seemed to be a young and hassled law clerk. "Mr. Hitsugaya?" He asked, his voice was wheezing slightly, as if he had just run a mile.

Toshiro looked up and nodded, "Yes?"

"Ten minutes and Judge Yamamoto expects you in the courtroom."

The white-haired attorney nodded and sighed, closing the gargantuan law book in front of him. "Alright, thank you."

The young man nodded and was gone in an instant. Rukia watched him go and felt a cold sense of dread coat the inside of her stomach. Good god, ten minutes.

Yoruichi frowned and looked at her watch, "Thought for sure it was going to be in forty five minutes… my batteries must have died. Damn."

"What time is it now?" Hitsugaya asked, brushing pieces of lint off of his navy coat.

The Captain looked at his watch and answered, "Eight fifty."

"Shit," Toshiro hissed, he looked around to the three people in the room and nodded grimly at them. "Alright. We know what we've got to do?"

"Testify." Rukia answered.

"Back your little short ass up." Yoruichi smirked, Toshiro glared at her.

"Shoot Aizen in a fit of temporary insanity if he gets off?" Kenpachi snarled in a low and grating voice.

The two lawyers and the one detective in the room turned their heads to Kenpachi—who was busy fixing a bell in his hair—and frowned.

"No," Hitsugaya said firmly after about a minute's contemplation. "But if you did I wouldn't prosecute."

"Good to know." Kenpachi shrugged, he turned to Rukia and grinned, "And you know I wasn't kidding."

"I know," Rukia sighed, "Believe me… I know."

Yoruichi turned towards Rukia and pointed towards the door. "We need you in the courtroom. You can sit in the viewing seats while the trial begins and we'll call you up when we need you."

She nodded and opened the door quietly. She exited first and Kenpachi followed with Toshiro and Hitsugaya. The sickening feeling in her stomach was growing worse and she could almost herself getting ready to retch. No one around her noticed though, Yoruichi was busy mumbling with her boss while Kenpachi was scoping out the guards standing in front of the courtroom doors.

Rukia swallowed nervously and patted a hand to her stomach, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles creasing her suit, Christ she hated this… why was she even doing this?

_To put a murderer away._ She reminded herself soothingly, _I need to do it._

They continued walking slowly to the courtroom. Before she would know it room three A would be looming in the distance. Her footsteps slowed and her insides began to do god knows what with her stomach. She hadn't even eaten anything since lunch the day before. After she had seen the ring everything had just simply spiraled down and she hadn't even remember to eat. Her stomach lurched again and she tightened her left hand into a fist. She could feel the metal bracing itself against her skin, it was warm now and didn't feel nearly as cold as when she had first noticed it.

Rukia continued her slow pace to the courtroom and lifted her left hand up a bit, gazing at the strong band of gold once more. How could something so tiny make her want to cry and laugh all at the same time? Something that was intrinsically worthless made her heart want to leap out of her chest and begin running in circles around her head.

"_I think you should leave now."_

Rukia's throat tightened as she remembered what he had said to her just last night. She felt her bottom jaw quiver as she thought of how his face looked. All he wanted was to make sure she was okay… he just wanted to take care of her so he could be with her later. He was the one who rescued her from burning to death and it was he who stayed with her while she was in a stupor. He read to her, he slept beside her, and he was there when she woke up.

"_You've got a man who's head over heels in love with you…"_

Rukia hadn't wanted to believe it was true. She hadn't wanted to think that someone like Ichigo could ever love someone like her. She hadn't wanted him to change her life so dramatically—she, the cynical and hard detective who didn't take crap from anyone couldn't afford to fall for a guy who was exactly the same as she.

He was loud and rude and obnoxious and scowled far too much… but she loved him. She loved him so much that it hurt to think of waking up alone again each and every day. She wanted to stay with him, to talk to him, to work with him, to make love to him, and to make him smile. But it wasn't simply want that was driving her to these thoughts: she needed him. She needed him the same way she needed oxygen and food.

She looked back down at the ring on her finger and thought of what he wanted. He wanted the exact same thing, he loved her and he needed her just as much as she needed and loved him. God, it was all getting so jumbled inside of her head. Everything was just swirling about until she could barely think straight.

"I love him." She murmured soft enough so only she could hear. She just had to say it. To confirm everything that was swimming inside of her mind.

"We're here." Kenpachi's rude voice grumbled and penetrated her thoughts and drew her attention back to the courthouse. She blinked rapidly a few times and nodded her head; the feeling of butterflies in her stomach was quickly replaced by the feeling of dread.

Toshiro and Yoruichi looked at her and she pursed her lips, "Are you ready?" Hitsugaya asked as a court guard pulled the door open.

Rukia nodded once and entered the courtroom.

-!!-

"Rukia?" Ichigo called as he pushed open the door to her apartment. In his hand was the key she had given him ages ago.

_Rukia pushed the tiny piece of metal into his hand as he shoved her up against the back of the door, devouring her mouth and skimming his hands over every surface of her clothed body._

_He pulled back slightly when he felt it and blinked quickly to figure out what was going on._

_Rukia smirked slickly at him and reached behind her to pull the lock on the door. "Just in case you choose to come over and surprise me one day."_

_Ichigo cocked and eyebrow and began to slide his hands under her shirt, his inquisitive fingers touching and teasing the very base of her breast. She began to breathe a little harder and he bent his head to nip at her neck. "Any suggestions on how I can _surprise_ you?"_

_Rukia's hands tightened on his shoulders and she groaned when his thumb pressed against her nipple, "Well… I _really_ like it when you do that thing with your tongue and just—"_

_Ichigo squeezed her breast and she yelped, his other hand slid down under her panties and began to tease her._

"_Maybe," Ichigo murmured softly as he licked a path up her creamy neck, "I can surprise you today."_

_Rukia's eyes rolled back into her head and she moaned, "I think I'd like that…"_

_Grinning wickedly, Ichigo shoved the key into his back pocket, picked her up, and pulled her towards the bedroom_.

He looked around her empty apartment and frowned softly. He went into her bedroom and saw a few official-looking outfits lying on top of her bed. His finger's reached out to brush against the material. Her scent was everywhere in this place. He drew in a deep breath and wished she were here. His heart was beating a bit faster with fear but he knew that nothing was wrong… that she was safe.

He walked slowly back into her living room and glanced around. Clean and orderly, just as it should be. He sighed fitfully and scanned the room once more. Maybe Kenpachi would know where she was…

He was about to leave when his attention was diverted to the phone sitting on her side table. The small red light indicating a message was blinking. Knowing he shouldn't, but not really caring, he pressed the button and listened to the message.

"_Miss Kuchiki, its Toshiro Hitsugaya. I have some bad news. Aizen's lawyer wants you in court tomorrow. I know it's sudden but I'm pretty sure he wants you to be sandbagged and sandbagged hard. Come to the courthouse tomorrow at nine, we'll need your testimony by at least ten. I'm sure Kurosaki can come pick you up or something like that. Anyway, just come prepared and be ready to put away a murderer_."

Ichigo's body froze as he listened to the message. Then he was out of her apartment. He turned and rushed out of the complex, practically tearing out of the building as he rushed towards his car waiting outside.

She was going to testify in a matter of minutes. He needed to be there, not to explain things or to get her to listen… he needed to be there because she needed him.

Ichigo turned on his police lights and peeled out of his spot.

-!!-

Rukia walked up to the stand quietly, a hush settled all around the courtroom as she stepped carefully up to the podium and took a seat in the cold, wooden chair.

The entire courtroom stared at her as she crossed her legs and placed her trembling hands on her knees.

Judge Yamamoto turned his ancient face towards her and asked in a low, old, voice, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you god?"

Rukia nodded her head, "I do."

"Please state you name."

"Detective Rukia Kuchiki."

"Counselor," Judge Yamamoto said sturdily, "Proceed."

Hitsugaya stood up and nodded to the Judge, "Thank you your Honor." He walked forward slightly and placed his hands behind his back. "How are you today, Ms. Kuchiki?"

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him and cocked an eyebrow, "I've been better, Counselor."

He nodded and continued, "Ms. Kuchiki, you recently had someone attempt to murder you, is that correct?"

"Objection," Ulquiorra shot, standing to his feet, "My client has not been convicted of the crime of attempted murder, using the type of rhetoric Counsel if using will further poison the jury against my client."

"Sustained," the Judge said, "But watch what you say counselor."

Hitsugaya nodded his irritated eyes, "Yes, your honor. Ms. Kuchiki… you recently suffered through a traumatic ordeal in which you almost died, correct?"

"Yes," Rukia said, her eyes staying firmly away from the defendant's table, "I was almost burned alive." She looked towards the jury as she said this, remembering that it was important to keep eye contact with them whenever possible.

"Can you point to the man who perpetrated this crime?"

Rukia breathed in deeply and nodded her head; she glanced at the jury once more before pointing to Sosuke Aizen, sitting only ten feet from her. "There, the defendant, Sosuke Aizen." She paused for a moment and stared at Aizen, who was sitting calmly in his seat, smiling warmly at her. He was dressed in standard prison clothing and his eyes held bags they had not possessed a week ago. But it was his stare was frightening her more than anything. He was looking at her like he looked at her when she came in and asked for a transfer. He was just smiling while occasionally glancing towards the jury just so he could grin charmingly at them as well.

Hitsugaya came up to Rukia's seat and rested his hand on the top of the wooden box she was inside. He spaced himself a bit away from the box just so it wouldn't tower over his head.

"Can you tell the court about that night?" He asked, his voice was low and quiet but still warm enough to slightly calm her frazzled nerves.

She nodded and opened her mouth to begin her testimony when the door to the courtroom opened and a tall man with flaming orange hair came through the door. Head's in the courtroom flickered towards the back of the room and Rukia's eyes widened.

His gaze locked onto hers and the minute she felt his warm amber stare a strange tingling sensation of security, fear, and courage washed over her body. She stared at him for what felt like hours. She wanted to capture the feeling that was now coursing through her veins as he looked at her.

_He came_.

"Ms. Kuchiki?"

Rukia jerked her eyes away from Ichigo's and looked back to Toshiro. "Yes? I'm sorry, yes, I will…"

Ichigo sat down in one of the galleries but didn't look away as he seated himself.

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes for a moment before looking up and breathing in, "On the night of February 8th I was walking up to my apartment and had just opened the door when a man grabbed me from behind and pressed a cloth against my mouth. The cloth had chloroform on it but before I fell unconscious I kicked out my foot and knocked over my lamp, it cut my foot as it fell."

"And after that you went unconscious?"

Rukia nodded, her throat was tight but she still continued. "When I woke up I was strapped to a chair by ropes in a room I didn't recognize. I knew there was someone else in the room and I was… very frightened. I tried to make my captor think I was still unconscious."

"But it didn't work?" Hitsugaya prompted.

"No. He knew I was awake." She swallowed and sighed, "When I woke up fully he began to talk to me. He started to say things about how he was finally going to kill me and how he had enjoyed killing my brother—"

"Objection your Honor!" Ulquiorra snapped, "My client is not being tried on these supposed other murders. Ms. Kuchiki's testimony should be limited to the acts only she experienced."

"Your Honor, what Ms. Kuchiki has to say is exactly what she experienced. She is a witness to what the defendant says."

The Judge lapsed into a momentary silence and Rukia took that time to look over at Ichigo. He was staring directly at her. His eyes still possessed the warmth she needed and Rukia willed herself to soak it all up.

"Counselor, you're going to have to limit Ms. Kuchiki's testimony to the crime Mr. Aizen is currently being tried for."

Hitsugaya's face darkened considerably. "Yes your Honor."

He paced the room for a few seconds and bit his bottom lip. Rukia glanced at Yoruichi and found her practically snarling where she sat.

"Ms. Kuchiki…" Toshiro began again, the tension evident in his voice. "Please describe what the defendant did upon leaving the building."

She nodded, "While we were speaking he had unscrewed a bottle of liquid, which he was pouring onto the floors. He told me that I was on the fifth floor of the building and in the very bottom there were cartons soaked in gasoline." Her voice wavered and she looked back at Ichigo for strength. "He kept calling me… 'little girl.' But he told me not to worry… b-because I'd die from smoke inhalation before I actually burned."

"And then?"

"Then… h-he left." She murmured, staring down at her hands. She was twirling her ring around her finger—it helped to calm her nerves. "He left me to die."

"Thank you." Toshiro murmured, reaching his hand over the small barrier and patting her lightly on the knee. "Thank you." Rukia nodded at him and tried to breathe. It was harder than she imagined, testifying, that is. As she recounted every horrific detail her mind kept reverting to that night; she saw each minute replayed as if it were some kind of sick, never-ending, movie. She closed her eyes and tried to block them out.

"Your witness." Toshiro muttered rudely to Ulquiorra, who promptly stood and approached the bench threateningly.

"Ms. Kuchiki," he said, his voice was steady but sounded deadly and even against her will it sent shivers up Rukia's spine. "How did you end up at the building near the docks?"

"I believe your client drove me there," Rukia said softly, she had to pause and think for a moment before answering.

Ulquiorra frowned, "Drove you there?" He crossed his arms over his black suit-enclosed chest. "Drove you?"

"Yes. He must have, the docks are very far away." Rukia answered tersely. She looked over towards the jury and said, "That's where we were, the docks."

"Why not just kill you at your apartment?" Ulquiorra said musingly, "I mean, isn't it much more convenient than setting fire to an entire building?"

"I suppose." She said in a low voice, "But when he was talking to me he told me that killing a Kuchiki was a rare treat. The sick bastard was enjoying it."

"Objection, move to strike," Ulquiorra said immediately, looking up at the Judge.

"The jury will disregard the witness's last comment." Judge Yamamoto said, turning to the jury and then to Rukia, "And Ms. Kuchiki, please refrain from using such language."

"How do you remember all of the details about the night, Ms. Kuchiki? I thought you were drugged and then was subjected to smoke inhalation." Ulquiorra asked coldly, "Not to mention after that you were in a catatonic state for well over a few days. How is it that you can recall so many small details about that night? I would have thought it to be impossible."

"All of those things _did_ occur but none of them caused any damage to my memory." Rukia answered.

Ulquiorra nodded for a moment and tapped his pointer finger against his chin. "Isn't it true that it was your partner who found you at the building?" The defense attorney asked.

"Yes," Rukia said, her voice much softer than before. "It was Detective Kurosaki."

"He, who climbed five fire escapes and dove into a burning building, just to rescue you?" Ulquiorra's tone was snide and suggestive, Rukia shifted uncomfortably in her seat and saw Ichigo tense with anger in the galleries.

"Yes, he did."

"Is it true that you're sleeping with Detective Kurosaki?"

The blood drained from Rukia's face the moment those words came out of Ulquiorra Schiffer's mouth. The courtroom began to buzz and Hitsugaya immediately stood and shouted an objection.

"Order in the courtroom!" Judge Yamamoto boomed as he smacked his gavel against his desk. "Order!"

The court finally began to quiet and when it did Rukia looked over at Ichigo, he was staring at Aizen's attorney with pure loathing in his eyes. Rage was written on his face and his body was tensed hard enough to snap.

"Your honor!" Hitsugaya practically screamed, "The witness's sexual history has nothing to do with this case!"

"It goes to credibility, your honor, I have a theory that proves Ms. Kuchiki and her lover made up the entire allegation against my client! The jury has a right to know an alternative explanation." Ulquiorra said smoothly, his voice sounded like the slithering of a snake: sleek and soft but still hideous and disgusting.

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes at the Defense and nodded, "I'll allow it…"

"Your Honor!" Toshiro snapped.

"But," the judge continued, "You must tread very carefully, Mr. Schiffer."

"Of course your Honor." He said, taking a few steps towards Rukia's podium, "Also, permission to treat as hostile, I believe the witness will be obdurate in her answers."

"So granted."

"Isn't it true, Ms. Kuchiki that you and Detective Kurosaki, your partner and coworker, have been sleeping together for about two months now?"

Rukia's jaw was tight as she nodded her head jerkily. "Y-Yes… that's true."

"Yet when you first came to the thirty first precinct about a year ago you were unhappy with being partnered with Detective Kurosaki?"

"I was."

"I guess he just grew on you, huh?" Ulquiorra snickered.

"Objection!" Toshiro roared, he stood from his seat and nearly pushed the damn thing over.

"Withdrawn," Ulquiorra said quickly. Yamamoto glared at him in a disgruntled manner and allowed him to continue. "Isn't it true, Ms. Kuchiki, that you were so angry at my client that you coerced Mr. Kurosaki into making up this ridiculous scheme with you?"

Rukia's eyes widened in horror and her mouth dropped open, "N-no… I would never…"

"Isn't it true that you planned the entire thing so Detective Kurosaki would rescue you at the exact moment when you needed him the most?" Ulquiorra was advancing steadily and menacingly upon Rukia. She was trying to sit solidly in her chair but his terrible presence made her want to shrink back.

"No!" She cried, lurching forward in her chair. In the gallery Ichigo sat on the edge of his seat and had his hand wrapped around the bench ledge in front of him.

"Isn't it true that it was just your sick and twisted plot to get back at your boss for putting your in a place you didn't want to be… well, that is, until you started getting some from your partner."

"No," Rukia whispered, her voice dropping against the din of the room. "No—I, never, it's not—it's different."

She didn't dare look over at Ichigo as she said these words.

"Different…" Ulquiorra snickered, "Yes, different. I bet you've never framed your former boss with any of your _other_ lovers."

"Objection!" Hitsugaya shouted again.

"Withdrawn," Ulquiorra snorted, giving Rukia a disgusted up-and-down look. "No more questions your Honor." He walked slowly away from the front of the courtroom and back to his seat. Aizen grinned when he sat down and patted his shoulder warmly, Ulquiorra shook his client off and returned to examining his notes.

"Redirect your Honor," Hitsugaya growled as he stood before the judge even gave his permission. "Ms. Kuchiki," he said tersely, "You said that this was 'different,' how is it different?"

Rukia felt something warm and wet run down her cheek and she shakily lifted a hand to wipe it away. Good god, she was crying now. Her breathing was getting harder and her throat was burning slightly.

"Ms. Kuchiki?"

Rukia lifted her head and felt her bottom lip quiver slightly. The pounding in her heart was so loud… she was almost positive that the entire courtroom could hear it. Rukia swallowed past the lump in her throat and shivered suddenly—she was cold for some strange reason.

"It's different…" she began, "It's different b-because… I-I'm in love with him."

Absolute silence fell over the courtroom. Rukia was staring down at her hands, Yoruichi was biting her lip while looking cautiously at the jury, and Hitsugaya was leaning against his desk, his intense eyes resting on Rukia.

"He gave me a ring." She murmured softly, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Thank you, Ms. Kuchiki." Toshiro said quietly, he eyed the jury once more before sitting down. Rukia saw him glance over at Ulquiorra and smirk at the pale man's angry complexion.

"You may step down, Ms. Kuchiki." The judge said calmly.

She nodded and stood up slowly, her body was trembling and her legs felt like gelatin as she walked slowly away from her podium. She passed the two tables in the center of the courtroom: one of them held two people who were trying to preserve justice and the other held an evil man who enjoyed killing helpless people. She nodded towards Toshiro and Yoruichi as she passed them but didn't even look towards Aizen. She didn't want to see that warm smiling that hid a cold blooded killer.

As she walked between the tables she looked up and immediately felt her eyes threaten to well once again.

"Ichigo," she whispered.

She rushed towards the small swinging door and passed through it effortlessly. He was waiting for her as she hurried towards him. The next thing she knew his strong arms were around her shaking body and his warmth was pressing into her.

She knew that everyone in the courtroom was looking at them but she didn't care. Her testimony was over, he was here, and she was finally safe.

His hand rubbed her back softly and he was murmuring into her hair. Rukia wanted nothing more than to simply revel in the feelings he was creating. She loved him so much.

"Come on, Rukia." Ichigo whispered, "I'm taking you home."

She nodded and slowly detached herself from him. He grasped her hand tightly and led her out of the courtroom. Not a single eye in the room left them alone as they walked to the grand double doors and exited.

Rukia looked over at Ichigo and then down to her hand clasped tightly in his. She stroked her thumb against his skin and he looked down at her. She smiled weakly at him, wishing that he would say something.

Ichigo's eyes left hers after a moment and he glanced at the ground. "So… you love me?"

Rukia felt her cheeks color slightly before she coughed lightly and looked at the ground as well. "Um… yeah. I think so."

Ichigo smirked and turned back towards her, his hands rested on her shoulders and he bent down to kiss her lips gently. "Well that's funny, because I _know_ I love you."

Rukia's bottom lip quivered softly as he cupped her face and pressed more soft kisses to her face. "God you're corny." She laughed weakly. She knew she was on the verge of crying, she just really didn't want to.

Ichigo smiled and ran his thumbs underneath her eyelids. "But you love me." He muttered softly.

Rukia looked up at him and gazed into his soulfully amber eyes. She loved him. He loved her. They loved each other. God, she didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing that silly four letter word.

"Yeah," she murmured, "Yeah, I do love you."

Ichigo's grin widened and he kissed her lips once again. He pulled away quickly and murmured into her ear, "I'm going to take you home, toss you on a bed, and kiss every part of your body until we can't move. We're not leaving your apartment for a week."

Rukia laced her fingers with his and smiled, "Just so long as you cook for me."

He led her towards the exit and grinned, "You bet."


	22. Smiling for Eternity

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: I'm so sorry. I completely forgot to add in a chapter. Thank you, Zapenbits, for telling me. Sorry I messed up everyone! Forgive me please!)**

**Smiling for Eternity**

**Chapter 21**

Ichigo brought Rukia to her apartment and didn't let go of her hand the entire time. His warm fingers were wrapped around hers and she just felt the most secure sensation wash over her body. More than a couple of times she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. God she loved these new feelings creeping into her heart. They made her tingle from the inside out, they kept her heart racing faster than normal, and they made her want to giggle sporadically whenever she felt Ichigo's hand tighten around hers.

They walked up the stairs to her apartment and for some odd reason Rukia could feel a swirling of nervousness appear in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why her stomach was quivering the way it was, but as she watched Ichigo open the door with a steady hand and pull her inside she thought she knew…

His hands gently removed her jacket and bent down to kiss her lips sweetly. She let the material fall to the ground and pressed her fingers against the back of his neck.

He was going to make love to her. Actual love. The type of connection that bound two people together through the casual exertions of sex. But this wasn't sex; it was so far from sex that Rukia knew it would be like nothing else she had ever felt before—with Ichigo, that is.

"Rukia…" he whispered, his tongue breaking through her closed lips and sweeping inside. She groaned audibly and began to rub her thumbs against his neck, feeling his rough skin in her hands. Slowly, she moved her hands up to his hair and he moaned softly. He whispered her name again and again… as if it were one of the only things keeping him sane.

She felt him push her against the wall lightly and she took the opportunity to tug at his jacket. His arms released her only long enough so he could toss the damn thing away. Rukia smiled as it landed near hers and groaned again when he pushed her further against the wall, rubbing his growing erection against her heated core.

"Ichigo," she murmured, wrapping her arms completely around his neck. "Please, make love to me."

His mouth left hers and began to kiss its way down her jaw and her neck. She gasped lightly when he sucked at her pulse and then further to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Yes," she heard him murmur as he continued. "Yes… Rukia."

One of her legs, as if it had a mind of its own, rose slightly until she was able to feel Ichigo press himself fully against her. She panted harder as the slight rubbing he had started only moments ago increased and in that moment she desperately wished that they weren't wearing any clothing.

Her thought seemed to have passed through Ichigo's mind as well, because the next thing she knew his hands were gripping her buttocks and she was being pulled upwards. Her legs locked around his waist and his hand supported her back as he pulled her away from the wall and kissed her again. His sweet and slow kisses were tormenting her; it was building the passion inside of her in a completely different way than before. All of the other times they had been violent and hungry, fierce and starving, and they ate each other as quickly as possible—needing the surge of desire and fulfillment because neither of them knew what the following day would bring. Now though, now there was no carnal urgency, now they didn't fear the coming day, and now… now they had all the time in the world to explore each others bodies until every dip and crest was memorized.

Ichigo had started walking, his movements were awkward as he was still holding and kissing Rukia, but she knew he didn't care, everything was as it was supposed to be: he was being so gentle, so calming, and so loving.

Ichigo broke his kiss with her momentarily and Rukia immediately took up the job, her mouth traced his jaw-line and then his neck. She breathed in deeply and captured his addictive scent. Damn she loved the way he smelled, she loved the way he moved, she loved the way he looked, and most of all she loved the way he was making love to her—how many things could she love about this man all at once? She smirked softly against his neck as she dragged her tongue across the entire length. She felt him shiver under her ministrations and rub his hands across her back, evoking feelings she wanted to feel again and again and again.

His hands around her back slackened just a bit and he tilted her backwards, laying her down on the soft bedding. She sighed gently and he pulled himself above her and kissed her once more. He suckled on her tongue and gently nipped her lips. Rukia groaned and her fingers dug into the cloth on his shoulders. There wasn't a piece of her that was left defended when he kissed her like this. Not a single one…

His hands skimmed down her shirt and began to unbutton the tiny bits of plastic. He kissed her fervently and continued until his fingers were brushing against the soft skin of her stomach. Shivers were beginning to appear on her flesh as he tugged the fabric off her shoulders and she lifted herself up just a bit so he could pull it off completely.

"Rukia," he whispered as he stayed above her. His eyes were trained on her body he watched steadily as her skin flushed a delicate rose color and her nipples hardened beneath her lacey undergarments. "Christ, you're so beautiful."

His head descended once again to her body, he kissed her neck and her jaw and then brushed his lips down further. She groaned and reached her hands up to his hair, her fingers twisted through his orange locks and she panted softly. He licked the valley between her breasts and then brushed his lips against the lace on top of them. She arched her back immediately and he began to suckle her through her brazier. Her eyes rolled into her head and she tightened her fingers significantly.

"Ichigo!" She gasped as he switched to her other breast. She reached back up into his hair and tugged fiercely. "T-take it off…I—oh… ah, I want to feel you."

He released her breast and rubbed his nose against her mulberry nipple. Slowly—too slowly for Rukia's taste—his hands moved under her and around her back. She felt the clasp of her bra come undone and finally the annoying thing was slipped off of her arms and thrown to the side of the room.

He smiled softly and bent his head back down. A shaking groan was pulled from Rukia's throat as his hot tongue swirled languorously over her peaked nipple as his hand teased and squeezed the other one just as lovingly. Her hands resumed their spot in his hair and continued to tug. She was writing underneath him and panting helplessly as his miraculous tongue worked wonders on her body. He gently kissed a path across to her other breast and resumed licking and tasting her.

Her hands soothed down the nape of his neck and slid under the soft cotton of his shirt. Her nails scraped softly against his skin and she felt him groan, the vibrations shivering onto her taunt chest.

"Ichigo," she moaned, "Please… please just—oh, oh God."

His mouth tugged off of her breast and he smiled gently. She smiled back and grasped the back of his head; she pulled him softly towards him and let his lips brush against hers. "Kiss me again." She whispered.

His mouth opened against hers and she moaned as he gently caressed her tongue with his. She sighed against his lips and made a gentle probe of her own. He tasted so wonderful. She slanted her head to the side and dove deeper into him. Their unhurried battle of heated passion never slowed as she lay down completely on the bed and his hand began to wander once again. She shivered when she felt his fingers lightly grip her knee and slide upwards. Thank God she had chosen to wear a skirt today. His fingers were strong and gentle as he slid up her leg, teasing the snowy skin beneath the dark fabric. The material bunched slightly as he ran his gentle hand up further. Finally his fingers delved into the area beneath her panties. His thumb circled low on her hip and she broke their scintillating kiss to gasp fitfully as he softly moved his hand across the top of her leg and to the front of her panties.

"I-Ichi-go!" She panted as his diligent thumb slid over her center. He paused lightly to tease her clitoris before pulling back and then doing it all over again.

She arched her back as his hand moved over her once more. The heat his fingers were bringing was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was so slow and gentle… she knew, she just absolutely knew, as his thumb teased and tickled her, that she loved him more than anyone else in the entire world.

"You have too many clothes on," he murmured huskily. His hand hooked underneath the base of her panties and gently tugged them down. Now, the only thing standing between him and her naked body was the flimsy fabric of her skirt.

He tugged the offending piece of lace off of her and tossed it across the room. She moaned as he leaned down to nip at her neck and then muttered, "You're… you're wearing t-too many clothes… too."

He chuckled lightly against her neck and nodded gently, rubbing his nose against her delicate skin. "You should probably take them off…" he whispered as he ran his tongue across the entire length of her neck.

She groaned as he sucked patiently on her neck while waiting for her to undo his clothes. Her fingers were unsteady as she slipped down the center of his chest and undid any button in her way. She heard him groan each and every time her delicate fingers brushed against his skin. The sides of his shirt flapped open slightly as she slid the last button from its hole. She drew her hands up to his shoulders, pulling the shirt away in the process. Ichigo lifted his arms one at a time in order to get it off of him completely. Now he was finally shirtless. Rukia's fingers pattered over his firm chest and down to his abdomen. He growled softly as she ran her finger down the length of his stomach. His mouth became more insistent on her neck and she whimpered when he rubbed his growing erection against her. Through her skirt her naked skin glistened wetly.

His hand was wandering again. She felt him skim the inside of her thigh and once again tease the dampness between her legs. She gasped as he wickedly pushed one finger into her—but only enough to give her a small taste of what he wanted to do.

She moaned his name once again and this time moved both of her hands to the snap in his pants. She pulled the zipper down so slowly. She could virtually hear each tooth as it came undone. She felt his erection pressing hotly against the back of her hand and she brushed him lightly with her knuckles. He hissed above her and slid his hand down her thigh with more insistence.

Rukia had already wiggled his pants halfway down his hips but could not move any them further when Ichigo removed his hand from the inside of her legs and reached up to the side zipper of her skirt. His mouth was still fastened to her neck and Rukia knew she would be sporting a dark mark later on but she didn't care. He was nipping and soothing every part of her creamy column while breathing in her scent all at the same time. She moaned gently as his fingers drew the zipper down and then tugged her skirt from her legs. She whined at him softly and wordlessly motioned to his pants. His mouth finally released her neck and he smiled at her. Rukia didn't shift from underneath him and he moved slowly upwards to kick off his pants. He threw them to the side and then casually flicked away her skirt as well.

He was staring at her, his eyes were sweeping over each inch of her body and his breathing was heavy. He stared into her eyes then traced her shoulders lightly; she shivered slightly under him as his gaze lingered on her breasts, her stomach, her legs, and finally, the dark patch of midnight curls resting between her thighs.

His burning eyes pierced every part of her skin and caused her to grow wetter than she had ever imagined possible. She groaned and whimpered as he continued to stare and tease her thigh. She was aching. She wanted him. She needed him.

Ichigo was drawing smooth circles up her leg with his pointer finger, his pace would be slower on the outside and then grow faster the closer he moved to her delicate center. She moaned and reached her hands to grip his shoulders as soon as his fingers began to make firm circles over her core.

Her nails gripped him tightly and she panted. A slow smile—or was it a smirk?—formed on Ichigo's face and he finally did what she wanted him to do—he slid his long and calloused finger inside of her waiting warmth.

Rukia couldn't help the groan that resonated around the room as he pumped his finger into her. First there was one… then two… oh Christ he had all three and it was feeling _so_ good. She undulated with him and closed her eyes tightly so she could focus just on the sensations his talented fingers were creating. They were caressing her inner walls with such gentleness and building heat and Rukia had to bite her lip to contain her pleas and moans. The sweet and tender torture seemed to go on forever and Rukia wanted it that way… gingerly she opened her eyes and saw a predatory gleam deep within each of Ichigo's irises. He bent his head down to kiss her hungrily as she rode his fingers. His tongue wrapped around hers and his thumb toyed with her sensitive nub until she could feel the tightening of her insides and the all-too-immediate collapse of her senses. He continued to goad her and tease her during her pent up release and God did it feel good. Rukia felt his textured fingertips as they stroked her one last time and slowly pulled out of her.

She was panting and gasping beneath him. She watched in amazement as he slowly released her from his kiss and languorously slid his tongue over each finger that had been inside of her.

"Oh… God…" she moaned as he grinned at her and bent to kiss her forehead. "Take off your boxers…" she muttered and grappled for his hips with her weak fingertips.

He nodded and scooted forward just enough so Rukia could pull his last remaining garment down his smooth and strong legs. He was so muscular but still so slender. She loved that about him. She loved everything about him…

…Especially the part of him that was now so stiff and long and aching against her thigh.

She licked her lips and pushed her center up towards him, "Ichigo… come to me, now." Her hazy eyes danced on his and she immediately noticed the predatory gleam was back. He moved to positioned himself at her hot entrance and in one thrust entered her.

Rukia's body immediately arched against him, her breasts molded to his chest and her stomach connected solidly with his. She could feel the sweet tickling of orange hair dusting his stomach as it grated against hers. She could feel… she could feel… God, she could feel everything: his heart against her chest, his length inside of her, his breath against her neck, his sweat sliding onto her skin… _everything_.

Ichigo began to move slowly. She exhaled a shuddering breath as he pulled out of her so _slowly_ and thrust back in leisurely—like there was nothing else in the world he had to do other than to please her.

Her nails scraped against his back and she gyrated breathlessly into him. His breathing was as unsteady as hers and she knew that his slow movements were deliberate. Every move she made against him caused his breath to hitch until he couldn't control himself anymore. He groaned her name and thrust into her with growing speed. She knew he was desperate to find the type of release he had already given her. Yet she also knew that he wanted them to come together.

His hand reached between them and rubbed her clitoris until Rukia's mind went completely numb. Her lungs were heaving with her labored breathing as she lurched upwards and pressed kisses to his face, chin, and lips. Desperately, he bent to kiss her deeply and by his lurching movements she knew that he was close.

She tore her mouth from his and wrapped her arms completely around his neck. "Oh! God—I-Ichigo!" She sputtered, feeling her inner walls clamp down once again. Only this time it was much more intense because Ichigo was still within her and still moving.

He lurched above her and thrust once more before erupting. Liquid heat flashed through her lower body and she gasped at the intensity of it all. She was panting hard and her heart felt like it would never be the same again. But that was alright… everything was alright… because Ichigo was here, with her, above her, inside her… he wasn't going anywhere.

Ichigo let out a shuddering breath and leaned to the side; he collapsed on the bed and instantly reached towards her. She went to him immediately and tried to control her breathing inside the security of his arms.

She didn't know how long they lay there, resting safely on the bed, his strong limbs encircling her. She felt him pull out of her eventually and kiss away the sweat from her forehead. He brushed his lips against her eyelids and she sighed softly.

"I love you." She heard him murmur, just on the edge of sleep.

She drew in a breath and whispered, "I love you too… so much."

Together, they fell into a blissfully quiet sleep.

--

Ichigo mumbled in his sleep and tightened his arms fractionally. There was something warm a pliant resting against his chest and breathing just as evenly as he. On the verge of consciousness, he drew in a deep breath and ended up inhaling the heavenly scent of cherry blossoms and fresh rainwater.

He smiled and cracked one eye open, "Rukia…"

She was already awake and her light fingertips were pattering over his face, he could feel her smoothing out the slight dent between his eyebrows, tracing the slight horizontal scar on his cheek and lightly kissing his skin.

"You look peaceful when you sleep." Rukia muttered in a voice husky with sleep. "You don't frown as much…"

Ichigo's face immediately contorted and she sighed, rolling slightly out of his arms and pressing a hand to her forehead. "See, now you've ruined it."

She was joking with him and he knew it, there was a slight smile curved on the tips of her lips and a rosy tint in her cheeks. Ichigo reached out and brushed a wayward piece of hair from her face. "Sorry to disappoint you," he teased, "But you're going to be stuck with this face for a while so you better get used to it."

The flush in her face moved downward to her neck and even blossomed over her collarbone. Ichigo knew it went further but the damn blanket—when had the blanket been pulled over them?—was covering the part of her that he wanted to see.

Defiantly, she pulled her hand off of her eyes and rolled over to face him. She was on her side and Ichigo could not help but stare as each of her curves were highlighted by the tightly fitting sheet. "'For a while?'" She restated defiantly. "What makes you think I _want _to be stuck with it?" She quirked up and eyebrow and leaned forward sensually and nipped at his lips. "From what I can tell you never even _asked_ me if I wanted to be stuck with it."

The white hot searing of fear that had entered Ichigo stomach at her first statement disappeared the moment the latter came out of her mouth. His frown dissipated and he raised his hand to capture the back of her head, she gasped in delight as he pulled her forward and kissed her hard and deep. His tongue swirled around hers and he pushed her gently back onto the bed. He climbed over her as he continued to kiss her senseless and began to run his hands all over her entire body.

The moment he knew she was shuddering under his touch and when he felt her fingernails scrape over his arms he pulled back. She whined softly when his lips left hers but he simply grinned at her.

"Rukia," his voice was panting and breathless. "Will you marry me?"

He ran his hands over her breasts and he listened closely to her delightful moan. Her eyes were open and staring at him angrily. "You… you are using powers over which I have _no_ control to influence my answer…"

Ichigo smirked wickedly and withdrew his hands from her body, "Do you want me to stop?" His stomach was twisting with nerves and desire—an odd combination considering all they had been through together. But he wanted her answer—he just needed her to say—

"Yes, I'll marry you, you crazy son of a bitch, now get over here right _now_."

Ichigo smiled like he had never smiled before in his life. Every frown line on his face disappeared and was replaced with such beatific happiness that the only thing he could do was laugh, grab _his_ Rukia in his arms, and hold on so tightly that she ended up laughing as well.

--

Rukia stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Ichigo exited directly after her and swooped down behind her to press a small kiss to the very center of her nape. She shuddered as his arms locked around her middle and her towel threatened to slip from her fingers.

"You're going to make us late." She murmured as she felt his thumbs make circles on her stomach.

"So?" He ran his lips down her shoulder and pressed his eyes next to her heated skin.

Rukia jerked against him but he held her fast, her brows crinkled into a frown and she tried to get him off of her again, it was, however, futile. He seemed to be holding onto her for dear life. He breathed in deeply and kept swirling his thumbs. Rukia would have jabbed her elbow into his side if she didn't like how he was touching her so much. He was simply breathing her essence in softly and silently, their bodies heated and dripping on the linoleum of her bathroom floor.

"Did you know," he began quietly as he raised his head to whisper into her ear, "That you always smell like fresh rain and cherry blossoms? I always thought it was some sort of perfume but it isn't… it's just you."

Rukia's eyes widened considerably and she felt her treacherous insides squirm once again. "T-That was corny." She muttered, her voice came out more embarrassed than she wanted it to be but he only laughed softly into her shoulder.

"Well get used to corny," he said, raising his head and kissing her lightly on the cheek, "Because you're marrying me."

Rukia grinned and turned around, her eyes trained on Ichigo's as she wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed her naked body against his. "You know… you've told me that at least seventy times in the past few days."

Ichigo shrugged, "I guess I'm just trying to make it a bit more real."

She frowned at him and detached her left hand from the back of his neck. She examined the tiny band of gold and smiled, she knew he was watching her and so she turned to press a tiny kiss to the band. She looked up at Ichigo and saw him grin; she grinned right back at him and ran her left hand over his cheek before rising on her tip toes and kissing his lips.

The kiss was slow and gentle—but was building with a passion Rukia recognized quite well. She could feel him hardening on her thigh and pulled back quickly. "Real enough for you?" She panted quietly.

"Not until I'm inside of you again," he murmured hotly. "Come on Rukia… do we really have to go?" His voice transformed into a whine and she whined.

She detached herself from him firmly and nodded. "Yes. We do."

He groaned exasperatedly and rolled his eyes back into his head. "Fine… but… since we are taking time out of our busy sex life, I have one condition."

Rukia walked back into her room—not caring that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing or that Ichigo's gaze was firmly glued to her buttocks—and walked to her closet. "What is it?"

Ichigo came to her closet and reached over her until his hand fished deep into the back. Rukia's eyebrows rose slightly as she saw him reach into the nether-regions of her closet towards her discarded piles of clothes. But he kept going—reaching far back until he pulled out a—

"A dress?" Rukia asked flatly. "You want me to wear… a dress?"

He shrugged, "Why not? You wore a skirt to court a couple of days ago."

She turned to frown at him, "That was because I was going _to court_. You're supposed to wear those types of things when you go to court."

"And now you're going back to court." Ichigo said reasonably. "Skirt, dress… they're almost the same. Plus, this dress will make you look completely amazing. Even while we're making out in the gallery."

She let her eyes run over her forgotten dress for a moment. It was a modest thing, just plain white with a thick black belt across the waist. The collar was a scoop neck and the hem didn't possess any type of fancy trim. She couldn't remember when she had bought it—or even why she had bought it for that matter. She reached out after a moment of hesitation and ran her fingers over the soft cotton. God, how long had it been since she had worn an actual _dress_? She let out a little growl in her throat and shot her fiancé a dark look. "Fine… but only because I'm going to court."

Ichigo snickered, "And not because I asked you to?"

"Of course not," she scoffed haughtily. "Why would I do anything because _you_ asked me to?"

Ichigo grabbed her by the shoulders, whirled her around, and swept her up in a wildly passionate kiss. She was so surprised she could barely do anything but open to him and moan.

He released her as swiftly as he caught her and smirked warmly when her dilated eyes finally settled upon his face. "Because you love me."

She blinked twice and scowled. "You annoy me."

He grinned, "But you love me."

She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, "For some reason, I do."

Ichigo bent to kiss her once again and whispered, "Good."

--

Ichigo and Rukia stepped inside the court room hand in hand. His fingers were grasped tightly around hers and his body warmth was the only thing keeping the foreboding chills from her body.

They had arrived just in time for the usual proceedings to begin. The jury was stacked in their seats, all of them were staring queasily at the defendant sitting before the judge and a few of them even turned to look as the couple as they entered the courtroom. Kenpachi was there as well and he turned his head to greet the detectives as they sauntered into the room—Rukia holding tightly to Ichigo. Kenpachi wasn't the only one to turn around though; Sosuke Aizen had nonchalantly turned his head when he heard the door open and smiled charmingly at the couple as they walked inside. Rukia felt like her insides had been frozen when she saw that sickening twisted smile on his face… again. Her fingers tightened fractionally in Ichigo's and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

They took their seats next to Kenpachi and immediately Rukia felt a bit better, she didn't know what it was but being in between her captain and her lover—excuse me, she thought ruefully, my _fiancé_—made her feel safe and secure.

As Ichigo situated himself she gently brushed her arm against his, she didn't want to seem too mushy but she did want to be nearer to him. She just needed him to be close… she didn't want to shudder again if Aizen looked her way. As if reading her mind, Ichigo wiggled a bit towards her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Yamamoto." Spouted the bailiff as the judge came through his side chamber.

Rukia grumbled evilly and cursed the man for making her get up.

"Be seated." The bailiff said once again, taking his position near the side of the courtroom.

The judge seated himself in his regular and regal position, his white beard shining against the dark mahogany of the table. Rukia's eyes shifted a bit and she found Toshiro gripping the edges of the desk tightly, he looked nervous, she thought, very nervous. Immediately, her stomach began to squirm in ways it should not have. She swallowed and once again laced her fingers through Ichigo's.

He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead and muttered, "Don't worry, he's a goner."

She smiled just a bit and sighed softly.

"We are here today to hear the verdict of Sosuke Aizen on the account of attempted murder in the first degree." The judge said in his gravelly voice.

Rukia's eyes flitted to the jury and her stomach tightened when the foreperson rose. Judge Yamamoto stared at them with hard eyes. "Have you reached a verdict?"

"We have your honor," the robust man with a balding head said calmly.

"Proceed."

"We the jury, in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Sosuke Aizen—"

Rukia's fingers held Ichigo's in a death grip.

"Guilty."

She couldn't have stopped the sigh of relief if she had even wanted too.

She wasn't the only one either. Half of the courtroom either cried out in victory or exhaled in delight. Her heart was beating fast. Her stomach held butterflies. Her entire body felt lighter.

She raised her head and looked at Ichigo. He met her gaze with a huge grin plastered over his features and after a moment of simply staring at her bent down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Rukia couldn't help the small laugh that permeated the kiss and she twisted and wrapped her arms around his. She released his mouth and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Guilty," she whispered into his ear, feeling his hot breath tickling her neck. "Guilty, guilty, guilty… oh thank God."

"Bailiff, take the witness into custody. We will meet tomorrow at ten to discuss sentencing."

Rukia barely heard the words as she grasped Ichigo tightly. He was rocking her slightly and running his hand up and down her back. A small laugh bubbled up in Rukia's throat and she kissed Ichigo's cheek again.

She didn't even watch as Sosuke Aizen was taken away.

She never saw him again.

--

Ichigo tugged Rukia's hand and forced her to walk a bit faster. She grumbled openly and glared up at him, "Ichigo… why are we going here? I thought we were going to lunch." She glanced behind her and saw Kenpachi striding behind both of them. She turned back to her fiancé and sped up just a bit to catch him. "And is Kenpachi coming with us? I mean, I'm all for us celebrating Aizen getting put away but if we're celebrating with our boss… I'm going to need a couple shots of bourbon first."

Ichigo completely ignored her as he continued hauling her to some unknown part of the building. She didn't know where the hell they were going and she sure as hell didn't like being brushed off to the side like she was some sort of fly. She scowled at Ichigo's back and practically snarled. "Ichigo… _Ichigo_… Ichigo!"

His orange head shot to the side and he frowned at her, "Just pipe down for a minute, will ya?"

"I will if you tell me where we're going." She shot back.

"I'll tell you when we get there." He grumbled.

"Well, when will we get there?" She sniped.

Ichigo gritted his teeth, "We'll get there when we get there."

"You're evil."

"And you're the Antichrist."

Kenpachi snorted behind them, "You two would be cute if I didn't think watching you was so revolting."

Rukia turned her head and she glared at him, "Stuff it Kenpachi."

The large man chuckled, "You can't talk to me like that!" His booming voice said in a chiding voice. "I'm your boss."

Rukia smirked, "I'm not on the clock, so you're technically not my boss right now." She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Stop acting like such babies." Ichigo muttered to the two of them. "If you would just… oh, we're here."

Rukia's attention moved from her boss to her lover and then the door he was standing in front of. Her brows furrowed instantly and she wrinkled her nose at him. "Another… room? This is where we're going instead of lunch?"

Ichigo let out an exasperated sigh and dragged one of his hands through his hair. Rukia's skeptical eyes brushed over his face and somewhere in her brain she took notice of how pale he was, it was quite a contrast from his natural and healthy brown. Her gaze flitted to the hand being unceremoniously dragged through his hair and glanced casually at his shaking fingers. She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked an eyebrow up. "What?"

Ichigo shifted uncomfortably in front of the door and turned to face her completely. His slightly trembling hands—when had he trembled before? Rukia thought. She paused for a moment to reminisce and shook her head mentally. Never, that was when—and placed them on her shoulders. She tilted her face towards his but didn't make another move. Her face was stony and expecting and completely different from Ichigo's look of slight terror and frustration.

"Rukia," he said, his voice clogged the moment after he said her name and the rest of the words seemed to refuse to leave his mouth.

"What?" She asked for the second time. She glanced over at Kenpachi and saw him grinning slyly. She swiveled back to Ichigo. "What is it?"

Ichigo exhaled nervously again, his eyes never met hers. "Just… j-just… um—just be quiet for the next couple of minutes, okay?"

Rukia's frowned turned malevolent and she humped. "I will not."

Ichigo glowered at her and then shot his hand out to grasp her elbow. Rukia was about to let out a sharp protest when he spun her around and shoved his hand in front of her mouth.

"Mfhlah!" She cursed and Ichigo muttered something about her bringing this upon herself before shoving the door open and pushing her inside.

Rukia would have given Ichigo a swift kick to the balls had she not opened her angry eyes to look about the room.

Her body went limp as Ichigo continued to push her into the room—not that she needed any convincing anymore, but still…

Judge Yamamoto looked up from his papers and grinned at the three people now entering his chambers. "Ah, Mr. Kurosaki, Ms. Kuchiki, Mr. Kenpachi… how good to see you… again."

Rukia's eyes widened a bit more and Ichigo—only after testing to make sure she wouldn't yell at him—removed his hand from her mouth. He was still grasping her elbow but not as hard as he previously had. Her gaze swiftly reached each end of the room—from the judge to her boss to the door and back—she looked back at Ichigo and then swallowed heavily.

In the very center of the chamber was a tiny wooden stand, it looked very out of place in the brown room mainly because it was painted a soft shade of white, but what distinguished this particular stand from any other that Rukia had seen was what was on top of it. Her throat dried and her stomach quivered as she stared at the open-necked crystalline vase sitting in the center of the table, out of its mouth spouted bright pink cherry blossoms. Rukia wondered how in the world they had gotten them. It was only February and cherry blossoms didn't emerge until spring. Some of the petals had fallen onto the table to further accent the abstractly white piece. Rukia's eyes followed the veining of the vase and she gasped when she finally saw the two rings placed directly beneath the flowering blossoms.

One of them was a pure gold ring, like the one she was currently wearing, but the other… the other… it was a simple circle containing a small string of tiny, pearl-like diamonds, no one was bigger or smaller than the other yet in the very center rested a red ruby. The color was so pristine Rukia could barely take her eyes off of the bleeding and passionate spectral.

Her lungs constricted as she fought to breathe. Her head moved slowly—so slowly she barely noticed the motion herself—back to Ichigo.

He was staring at her with eager eyes and a nervous expression on his face.

She opened her mouth and tried to say something—_anything!_—but nothing seemed to want to come out. Sweet Jesus… she knew he had proposed but she didn't think—she didn't think… well, this was all just happening so soon.

The next thing she knew, Ichigo's hands were grasping hers and she was staring up into his amber irises.

"Rukia," he began, his voice was dry and scratchy, he sounded just as nervous as he looked, maybe even more so than she was. "I—I know this might seem kind of sudden… to you. I mean, it's sudden to me too but I just… I just thought that this would be the best time, you know… after the trial, for better or for worse."

Rukia swallowed heavily and tightened her fingers in Ichigo's.

"The bottom line is," he flickered his eyes down to her hands then back to her, his honey orbs were piercing into hers so deeply it took her breath away. "Rukia, I love you. I do. I can't think of anything that would make me love you less and I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

"I know this might be a bit scary and, hell, I'm scared shitless right now. I'm… I'm just afraid that you might say no. So… so please just… say yes." He pulled her a little bit closer to him and leaned down. "Please say you'll marry me… today preferably. I want to start our lives together—same home, same bed, same bathroom, for god's sake. I love you, Rukia. Please, marry me? Um, now?"

Rukia's palms were sweating slightly. She was shaking as he held her fingers in his. His hands were strong and warm and his face was pale as he stared at her. Everything seemed to be flashing through her mind at once: the day they met, the times they worked together, the things he protected her from, the first day they kissed, when they made love again and again and again… when he saved her from Aizen, how she only thought of him, how he stayed beside her in the hospital and took her home afterwards, how he made love to her so softly, so tenderly… she loved him. She loved him so much… she had already said yes to him, to his proposal. Why shouldn't they make it official?

Why shouldn't they make it official… _now_?

"Yes." She murmured softly, her eyes glued to his. Her lips cracked into a small smile and Ichigo's hands went up to caress her face. His face had loosened from its look of sickening apprehension to an expression of pure joy. He cupped her face in his hands and bent down to kiss her. The kiss was hungry and happy and Rukia threw her arms around his neck immediately. Her heart was soaring as he pulled her up and twirled her once.

She released his mouth and hugged him fiercely. He was laughing quietly into her neck and she was simply giggling outright. Christ, she couldn't remember the last time she giggled. They seemed to stay like that for hours. Simply holding one another, laughing, giggling, and whispering sweet words to each other. Yet while they seemed to have forgotten everyone else in the room Kenpachi and Judge Yamamoto were in no mood to watch such a sentimental scene. Ichigo finally put his fiancée down when Kenpachi cleared his throat so loudly the occupants of the adjacent room must have heard it.

Judge Yamamoto stood by the small white table and leaned on his expensive-looking cane. He was holding papers and pen in his right hand. He gave a small smile to Ichigo and Rukia, "So… shall we get started?"

The detectives in the room both grinned and stepped forward, their hands securely linked, they came to the table and grinned once again at each other.

It seemed to go by in a blur. Rukia barely remembered swearing her vows, or Ichigo swearing his, she felt him slip her new ring on her finger and she did the same to him. She hardly remember that he apologized to her for not giving her an engagement ring first but she didn't care. She could have laughed at how happy she felt. Her hand was numb as she signed the paper, she barely remembered Ichigo scribbling him name and she simply stared at him—her husband—as Kenpachi signed the witness line. She thought he looked at them and scoffed before signing, telling them that since they were married he'd have to assign them new partners, but she didn't care—hell, she barely even noticed anything.

The only thing she clearly remembered about that entire affair was Judge Yamamoto turning to Ichigo and saying, "You may kiss the bride."

With that, Ichigo pulled her close, murmured, "I think I will…" and bent down to kiss her waiting lips.

It was then that Rukia knew she would be smiling for the rest of her life.


	23. Going to be Okay

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.**

**(A/N: Sniffle, sniffle… my god, I can't believe this story is over. It seems like only yesterday that I first began to type. Sniffle… and now my baby is all grown up! Okay, sentimentality over. Tell me what you think about the epilogue, is it cute or just plain cruel? Hehehee… maybe both?**

**I want to thank everyone who ever reviewed my fic. Thank you so much. I really appreciate every single word that is posted in response to a chapter. You really have no idea how much they mean to me. Thank you so much.**

**Also, sorry to those who reviewed for the last chapter but didn't get a response. I—once again—accidentally deleted them. I'm such a technophobe, seriously.**

**Anyway, here's the last chapter. PLEASE REVIEW!!**

**Love, Tituba.)**

**Epilogue**

Ichigo's tongue slithered into Rukia's mouth and he delighted in the small moan that immediately came from her throat. She surged back into him just as forcefully and wrapped her tongue around his. They battled each other for a few moments before Ichigo's wandering hand reached up to cup her breast. Rukia's fingers tightened around his neck and she smiled into the kiss. She could feel herself growing heated as his skilled fingers toyed with her through her shirt and she instantly felt like fucking him.

There was a cough from the backseat. The couple broke their hot kiss and glared into the back of the car. "What?" Ichigo asked rudely, his thumb brushing the side of Rukia's face.

The thirty year old drug addict who was found living in his mother's basement blushed in the backseat. He rubbed his chubby and sweaty hands over each other and wiggled his chin. "A-Are you two a-allowed to _do_ that?"

Ichigo's wife snarled at the man, "Of course we can, we're _married_." She turned back to her husband and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "And if we happen to arrest someone a bit earlier than expected…"

Ichigo snickered softly and kissed the sides of her face. "Are you thinking medical examiner's office at three?"

Rukia quirked up her eyebrow. "Of course, Orihime and Ishida have wedding plans to look over so they're a bit… distracted." She pecked at his lips once again before shifting back into his seat and rubbing her hand against his. She grinned slyly and Ichigo started the car.

"Oh, and by the way," Ichigo's voice boomed to the man sitting in the seat behind them. "You mention this to anyone…" he turned his head to glare threateningly at the fat bastard as they drove from the street; his amber eyes a wickedly dark shade. "And I will _personally_ visit you in jail."

The man gulped and nodded jerkily, his fat head wobbled amusingly and Rukia had to bite back a laugh.

Ichigo's hand was steady on the wheel as he drove, occasionally shifting his eyes from the road to his wife sitting in the adjacent seat. His other hand was clasped around hers. Damn, he loved driving while she was beside him. Her hand was always inside of his, always reminding him or how much she loved him. Ichigo felt a familiar feeling of warmth bubble in his chest. Damn, he couldn't believe it was going to be three years in only a few months. Almost three whole years. Three years of arguments, make-up sex—lots and _lots_ of fucking unbelievable make-up sex—passion, murder suspects, love, arresting people, violence, and everything else that comprised, well, _marriage_.

Not to mention they worked together everyday. Granted, it did go against police policy to have them working as partners when they were married, but then again, Zaraki Kenpachi wasn't exactly the most conventional of bosses.

_Kenpachi pulled his chair back and growled softly. He was eyeing the two rumpled and satiated detectives before him. They had been gone for two weeks on some type of a honeymoon but Kenpachi didn't know where they had gone—hell, knowing them they probably didn't go anywhere and simply confined themselves to one of their apartments. He rolled his eye anyway and leaned back in the chair._

"_Listen," he muttered, raising his hand and pointing a gnarled finger at the two of them, "I know that you two are… _married_ and all," he spat the word with disgust. "But if you think that you can stop slacking off on the job you are sorely mistaken."_

_Kenpachi eyed Ichigo's hand as Rukia's slipped hers into it. He felt like puking on the inside. He glared at them again, "You know that the regulations state I need to get you new partners."_

_Both of their mouths opened immediately to protest but Kenpachi cut them off. "But!" They shut their mouths. "But… since Kuchiki decided—in a fit of feminist anger—to keep her last name, the paperwork won't really show that you two are married, well, to each other, at least."_

_Broad grins appeared on both of their faces and they shot each other gleeful looks._

_Kenpachi knew he was going to throw up now. "Just make sure that if the police commissioner comes you two don't act as sickening as you usually do."_

_Rukia leaned on Ichigo and laughed softly, "Sure… we can do that."_

_Kenpachi knew he needed to get them out of there before he dove for his trashcan. "Also, don't forget that you two have to be professional on the job. I'm serious—one of you gets shot and the other needs to go after the _perp_, not for the wounded significant other."_

_Ichigo let out a small laugh—damn, Kenpachi thought, that was the first time I've heard him laugh out of, well… happiness—and nudged Rukia. "I swear Rukia, if you ever get shot or hurt in the field I'll kill you."_

_She looked up at him lovingly, "Same goes for you."_

_Kenpachi could feel the bile building up in his throat. "Okay, enough sentiment. Now get out."_

_They left and Kenpachi ran to the bathroom._

Ichigo's eyes flicked to her and he smiled again. So far neither of them had had to kill each other. Ichigo was always there to protect her and she was always there to watch his back. They worked well together and as a team had cleared hundreds of cases over the past couple of years. And while they were supposed to be keeping their marriage on the down low everyone who had half a brain knew about it. They were always kissing each other in the copy room or brushing their legs against one another under their conjoined desk—Rukia still had not gotten her own desk nor had she ever asked for one. Anyone could see that they loved each other more than anything else in the world. A couple of people had teased them about it for a couple of months but their quips went on deaf ears. Rukia and Ichigo were too absorbed in each other to notice anyone else.

Rukia sighed softly and lifted his hand to her mouth. She turned his palm over and pressed a tiny kiss to each callused fingertip. He could feel his body shuddering and heard the man in the backseat gagging. He grinned at his wife and nodded suggestively. "When we get off tonight… I swear to God you are going to be out of those clothes faster thank you can blink."

The man behind them wretched in the back of his throat and turned his head away.

Rukia glared at him, "Hey, just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us need to be abstinent."

The pale man puckered his lips in indignation and crossed his arms over his pudgy chest. "I've had sex before!" He huffed angrily.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Yeah… and I'm the Virgin Mary."

"Well I have!" He repeated, his squeaky voice rising just a bit. "Just because I'm not married doesn't mean—"

The scratchy voice over the intercom interrupted the fat man in the back. Ichigo and Rukia's attention immediately went towards the radio: "_Ten four, ten four, we have a hostage situation at a local nursery. All available units comply._"

Ichigo's wife gave him terse look before picking up the radio, "Kuchiki here, what's your location?"

"Corner of Tamaji and Seika."

Rukia's brow furrowed as Ichigo turned the car around and went in the specified direction. "Alright," he heard her say. "Well be there in two."

She sighed softly and flipped on the siren. Ichigo pressed his foot harder on the gas and tightened his hand over his wife's. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly and smiled at him before turning to the man in the back, "Now just sit there and be nice and quiet. We're going to take a little detour." She turned back to the front seat and ignored the man's protests.

After a few moments of furious driving Ichigo pulled her hand up and kissed the back of it. "You get shot or die," he muttered darkly as he glanced at her, "I'll kill you."

She smirked at the ritualized threat and tightened her seatbelt a bit. "Same goes for you."

He nodded tersely and sped up again.

Tamaji Street and Seika Street were located in a relatively safe part of town. There had been no real malicious activity in those parts—other than a few loitering charges—so it was no surprise that the place was now a beehive for young, prospective parents and their children. Rukia and Ichigo stepped out of the car, careful to lock it behind them, and moved towards the bustle of cops in front of them.

"Hey," Ichigo came forward and walked directly into the fray. "What's going on?"

"Hostage situation," said a street cop nearest to them. "The woman inside, the owner of the nursery here, is holding a client's child hostage."

"Gunpoint?"

"Yeah."

Rukia appeared near Ichigo's elbow. "Any reason why?"

The cop looked down at her and shrugged, "She's been saying that she's the kids' mother."

"What's her name?" Rukia asked.

"Rana Kishina." He sighed and shook his head. "We tried to talk her down but she's been in there for a while and won't seem to listen to us."

Rukia's brow furrowed and she glanced around the entire mêlée of cops. She turned back to the uniform and scowled, "That's because everyone here has testicles." She grumbled then wrinkled her nose. "Get me a bulletproof vest."

Ichigo's eyes widened significantly and he swiveled his head towards her, "No." He said shortly before looking back at the cop, "Don't get it."

Rukia jabbed her elbow into her husband's side, he grunted and she told the slightly scared cop to go and get her a vest.

"Rukia…" Ichigo wheezed, rubbing his side distastefully. "You're not going in there."

A bulletproof vest was tossed in her direction and she caught it before her husband could. He tried to grab it from her but she jumped nimbly out of his reach. She slipped her arms through it and had the Velcro attached before Ichigo could utter another word.

"_Rukia_…" he growled, coming towards her threateningly.

She stood her ground and took off her holster and gun. For a moment, her hands brushed overtop of her stomach, paused, and then tried to yank the vest down a bit further. Her eyes stayed there for a moment before looking up at her husband and scowling. "Come on Ichigo, no man here is going to know what that woman is going through." She tossed him her firearms and he caught them deftly.

"Well, you don't know what she's going through either." He shot back and tried to take off the vest. She slapped his hands away and kicked him in the shin.

"I might not _know_ know what she's going through but at least I have a similar set of chromosomes. Your 'Y' allele makes it that much harder for her to talk to you."

A dumbfounded look crossed Ichigo's face and he scowled at his wife. "You are _not_ going in there."

She defiantly stared him down. He still, after nearly three freaking years of marriage, had no idea how she could be so short yet look down on him as if he were some sort of peasant. "Watch me." She said defiantly before grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking his head down into a quick kiss. She pushed him back after only a few seconds and barreled towards the building. "Watch it," she called, "Going into negotiate."

Ichigo cursed dirtily and followed her quickly. "Going in as backup." He snarled as he pushed past the uniforms to get to his wife.

She shot him a dirty look over her shoulder, "_You_ will not be seen. You're hair is ostentatious enough that it might scare the poor woman even."

"Just don't get yourself shot." He sniped as they opened the door to the main building and walked quickly inside. The entire facility—about three stories high—was completely empty, well, except for the room currently occupied with hostages. They strode briskly to the room and stopped when they came before the door, a couple of uniforms had followed them to keep order but the detectives ignored them.

"_Little Totters Daycare_." Rukia read musingly. She turned to her husband and faked a small and nervous laugh. "What the hell is a _totter_?"

He shook his head but didn't say anything. His heart twisted painfully as he watched his wife draw in a deep, cleansing, breath and exhaled slowly. She smoothed her hands over her bulletproof vest and she once again tugged it down. Ichigo's chest twanged and he spontaneously bent to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled at him and then turned to knock on the door.

"GO AWAY!" The woman screamed. The two of them could hear children bawling on the inside. Ichigo drew in a raggedy breathe and immediately wished his wife was not going in there.

Rukia cleared her throat, "Rana? Rana, my name is Rukia Kuchiki and I'm a police officer. I'm going to come inside now, alright? I'm not armed. I just want to talk to you." She turned the knob just a bit and opened the door slightly. The woman inside shrieked at her to close it but Rukia didn't comply, she simply set her jaw and pushed the thing out further.

"Rana?" Rukia murmured softly, "Rana? I'm coming in, okay? I'm not armed."

Her body sidled through the rest of the door and Ichigo stood on the outside, his tense body hidden by the wall. The only thing he could do right now was listen.

-!!-

Rukia didn't close the door behind her but kept it open far enough so Ichigo could hear. She knew that he would need some type of reassurance if he was going to sit outside and listen to her confront a woman holding the tiny hostages at gunpoint.

"Rana," she said quietly. She looked up and had to force herself not to swallow noisily.

The woman before her looked a bit older than she was, possibly in her mid to late thirties. She would have looked attractive if she didn't appear to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Her hair was mussed completely, the blonde strands falling every which-way until they covered bits of her face. Mascara from her eyes was running in rivers of tears down her cheeks. Her face was red and splotchy. Her hands were shaking. Her clothes were rumpled… and she was holding what seemed to be a three year old little girl in her right arm. To Rukia's surprise, the child seemed to be resting quite peacefully; she at least seemed a bit content. Everything would have been fine had she not noticed the gun clasped tightly in Rana Kishina's hand—the hand _supporting_ the little girl.

"Rana," Rukia murmured, coming forward just a bit, but not so far as to scare her off. The woman's fearful eyes were glued to hers. Her body was coiled tightly, as if at any moment she might fly completely off the handle. "Hi… my name is Rukia… I want to help you."

The woman's jaw quivered and her grip on the girl tightened. "No… no… you're not here to help me. No one's here to help me."

"That's not true, Rana, that's not true. You can trust me." Rukia said in the most soothing voice she could muster. Frightened children were peering at her from different corners of the room. She could see luminous eyes as they permeated the fabric of her clothing and seeped into her heart. Christ… something about seeing all of these kids…

"You're here to take her, aren't you?" Rana cried desperately, her arms tightened around the girl. "You're going to take her back to her _parents_, aren't you?" She spat the word 'parents' as if it were a curse.

Rukia shook her head, the queasy feeling in her stomach growing exponentially. She had to blink a few times to refocus on her target. "Rana, I thought that _you_ were the child's mother." Rukia paused and inclined her head towards the little girl. "Is that her?"

Rana's head nodded jerkily. "Yes… yes… this is m-my… _my_ Reikio. _Mine_."

Rukia nodded and took another slow step forward. "Then why are we here, Rana?"

The woman's bottom lip quivered. "This little girl… this, precious, baby girl…" she looked up at Rukia with tears shining in her eyes. "_I_ was the one who carried her in my stomach for nine months. _I _kept her alive inside of me. _I_ carried her and loved her all that time…"

The pieces of the puzzle began to click in Rukia's mind. "You were a surrogate mother. She isn't genetically yours."

"But she _is_ mine!" Rana shrieked, causing the little girl to wince and cover her ears. The gun trembled in her fingers and was tilted just a bit so as to be in range of Rukia's legs and stomach. Fear shot through the female detective but she swallowed it desperately.

"R-Rana," Christ, she couldn't stutter at a time like this… "You were the one who loved this child the most… why, why are you risking hurting her if you love her so much?"

Relief washed over Rukia as the temperamental woman began to lower the firearm. "It wasn't me who is hurting her." She whispered. "Her parents send her to this day care because they know that I'll take care of her! That I'll love her like my own, and I do! I love her so much!"

Rukia nodded sympathetically and allowed her to continue. "But three weeks ago she came in with bruises." Rana's eyes took on a dark shade of anger and she clutched the girl tighter until she squeaked. "I've seen bruises like that before and I _know_ what they mean! I _know_! They were hurting her and when I told them to stop they told me to _shove it_! That it was _their_ child and I shouldn't be interfering in affairs that I didn't _understand_."

"Rana…" Rukia whispered. "I understand. I know what you're going through." She took another step forward and placed a hand over her heart.

"How could you possibly know?" Rana spat. "You look like you don't have any children. You're too busy or too tired or too professional to have them. No… you don't know _anything_!" The gun came up another couple of inches and Rukia's heart raced a bit faster.

"Rana," Rukia said clearly, her voice louder than it had been previously. "Rana, listen to me, I am _going_ to go through exactly what you went through."

Rana's eyebrows furrowed and the gun came down a bit more. "W-What do you mean?"

Another step. "What I mean, Rana, is that I am eight weeks pregnant." Another step. "And you know what?" Rukia smiled softly even though her heart was racing with fear and her brows were furrowed in worry, "I haven't even told my husband yet."

-!!-

"I mean, Rana, that I am eight weeks pregnant. And you know what? I haven't even told my husband yet." Her voice was soothing and calm but as the words entered Ichigo's brain he didn't notice anything about the tone. Only the content.

Ichigo's mind went blank. His eyes widened in total horror. His stomach shriveled into a pile of nothingness. His heart began to beat erratically. The cops standing beside him gave him strange looks but he didn't notice them.

"Oh. My. God…" He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe.

Rukia… pregnant.

In that room.

With a crazed woman.

Holding a gun.

Ichigo could never have been more terrified than he was right now.

"Rukia…"

-!!-

She came forward again and grasped her hand around Rana's wrist. Her voice was soft and sincere and she spoke with the type of feeling only a mother could use. "Rana, you love this child more than life itself. I know that with the help of some of my friends we could fight her case and get her released to you… within a reasonable amount of time. But please… I know and you know that these children, the one in your arms and the one growing inside of me, means more to us than anything in the world. You wouldn't want to do anything that would harm them in any way. Am I right?"

Rana was quiet for a minute, her hand was slack around the gun and Rukia pulled it effortlessly from her hand. Strangely enough, the firearm felt extremely light. Rukia glanced down at it momentarily and found out that it wasn't even loaded. Rana's breathing was becoming a bit more normal and Rukia smiled at her as she patted the woman on the shoulder and murmured, "Come on. I need to take you to the police station."

Rana's eyes went wide and she clutched Reikio tighter. "But… but… R-Reikio."

Rukia nodded, "I'll have someone I know from Child Services take care of her. She's very nice and will make her comfortable. She won't go back to her parents for now."

Rana's face relaxed and she nodded. Slowly, she slid the little girl from her arms and allowed her to grasp her hand. The woman sniffled and tried to smile at the tiny girl. "Come on sweetie, Auntie Rana has to go now, but I'll be back to take care of you soon."

The little girl gave her a toothy grin and nodded playfully. She popped her thumb in her mouth and grasped tightly to her "Auntie's" hand as Rukia led her out to the police. Rukia couldn't believe that the girl hadn't even been _afraid_ while Rukia had tried to talk Rana out of doing something stupid.

Rukia opened the door to the nursery and led Rana and Reikio out quietly. She jerked her thumb to the inside and immediately a couple of uniforms went in to grab the rest of the frightened children. Rukia scoffed as they came out. Sure, _those ones_ were scared… but the one who had actually been _kidnapped_ didn't blink an eye.

She exhaled as Rana and Reikio were led away and gave specific instructions to the cop who took away the little girl; he nodded and gave her a thumbs up sign before asking Reikio if she wanted to play with the siren in his car.

Finally, the room filtered out and the only two people left were Rukia and Ichigo.

She still hadn't looked at him since she had gone inside. Damn, she felt all nervous again. She rarely ever felt nervous around Ichigo anymore, why did the damn butterflies have to start now?

He cleared his throat quietly and she gulped.

"So… when you had the flu a while ago and, um, you were throwing up all the time…?" He began in a whispering voice.

"Yeah." She admitted sullenly. "Yeah, back… then."

There was a small pause. He took another step forward. "When were you going to tell me?"

Rukia exhaled and started to take off the bulletproof vest. "I…" she began, trying to find the right words. "I'm… not sure actually." She shook her head and sighed again. "I guess when I got up the courage to."

Another step. "Rukia Kuchiki not having courage?" He laughed softly, his voice changing from a tone of uncertainty to one of warmth and love. "That's something I find hard to believe."

She looked up at him and a weak smile appeared on her lips. "You're not mad?" She whispered, her hand running down her stomach to feel the tiny bump resting there.

A choking sound came from Ichigo's throat and he snorted, "Mad? Of course I'm mad! Mad as hell!" He stepped forward and pulled his tiny wife into a fierce hug. She was about to push against him when she felt his entire body trembling. Uncertainty clouded over her mind as she soothed his back slowly. "Rukia…" he whispered into her hair. "Fuck, Rukia… you just went into a hostage situation where you could have been _shot_ and you're _pregnant_. _Pregnant_! Damn it Rukia, I swear to God when you said what you said I thought I was going to have a heart attack." He laughed nervously and hugged her tighter. "Jesus… don't ever make me that scared again."

Rukia's throat bubbled over in a tiny laugh and she gripped her husband just as tight. "I promise." There was silence for a few moments. Husband and wife held each other tightly and simply breathed together.

Ichigo was rubbing Rukia's back and she sighed, "Ichigo… are we ready for this?"

He pulled away from her gradually; his hands seemed reluctant to leave her body. His wife looked up into his eyes and within those violet orbs he saw fear, uncertainty, and hope. Slowly, he unraveled the frown lines from his face and smiled warmly. He could see the relief that washed over Rukia's features the moment his face changed.

"Can I touch your stomach?" He murmured softly, bending forward to kiss his wife's head.

She choked a bit and nodded against his lips. For some reason, she seemed to be crying. Ichigo just smiled at her and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "Hey… no crying, okay? I hate it when you do that."

She sniffed and nodded her head. Her eyes were on Ichigo as he slowly bent down so he was resting on his knees. Slowly, his hands moved overtop of Rukia's entire stomach, first up high and then down lower to where he could feel the slight bump resting beneath her clothing. He sucked in a breath and immediately felt the most intense sensation of love and devotion sweep over his entire being.

Rukia was watching him anxiously, her body taunt, waiting for some type of reply.

Ichigo simply stared at her stomach. _This is ours_. He thought incredulously. _We made this… ours._

He looked up at Rukia and grinned. "Oh yeah. We're ready."

Her voice broke into a tiny laugh and Ichigo surged up. He grasped his wife in his arms and lifted her off of her feet, swirling her in the air in the process. "Oh, God Rukia… I'm so happy!" He laughed as he set her gently down.

"So am I, Ichigo," she turned to him and smiled with watery eyes.

His face went from smiling to frowning in less than an second as they started to walk towards the door. "But of course you won't be going in the field anymore."

She glared at him and continued walking. "I'm not a glass ornament that's going to break, Ichigo."

"And you're going to go on maternity leave."

"I am not!"

"And we'll have to pick a name."

"Later."

"Buy a bigger house."

"What's wrong with ours now?"

"And we'll have to start a college fund."

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves are we?" Rukia snickered at him softly as she wrapped her hand in his. "Let's just get through these next couple of months." She looked up at her husband. "Because I swear, if you treat me like some sort of melting ice sculpture I'm going to make sure my hormones make you miserable. Okay?"

Ichigo grinned down at her and bent to kiss her lips. He lingered softly for a few moments before releasing her. She looked dizzy and happy and content as she walked beside him.

He squeezed her hand softly and nodded, "Okay."

_Okay_.


End file.
